Inevitable
by Jeanie205
Summary: Logan and Veronica have both just graduated from Hearst, but aren't together. They've each made plans, but, as often happens, those plans get waylaid by life. Can they overcome everything that life throws at them? A Love story in two parts.
1. Part I - Chapter 1

A/N: My everlasting gratitude to the fabulous ELSchaaf, the world's greatest beta.

Part I - Chapter 1

She was pregnant. She'd already known it, already been sure. Didn't even really need to see the proof. But she'd taken them anyway, of course, all three of the early pregnancy tests that had been included in the box. She knew that no amount of running to the store for additional tests, trying to search out "more reliable" brands, was going to change the outcome one bit. And besides, the tests were fucking expensive and she really didn't have money to waste.

(And why were there _three_ tests in the box anyway? Was everybody as absurd as she was, wanting a triple confirmation before going into panic mode? Or did some girls have pregnancy scares so often that they found the volume pack to be more economical?)

Veronica had always known that this was...a possibility. No matter how careful she was, no matter the double, or even triple redundancy of birth control used, there was always a chance that they'd all fail. Of course, there was an even greater chance that you might get knocked up when you'd impulsively slept with your on-again-off-again-on-again, etc, etc, boyfriend, and managed to get so carried away that you'd used nothing at all. Yeah, that definitely put a negative spin on the odds.

Veronica sighed with frustration. The thing that galled her the most was that this was now a situation that was beyond her control, and more than anything, Veronica needed to feel that she was in control.

She hadn't been in control the night it had happened, either.

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She was in _The Rose and Crown, _the pseudo-English pub right at the edge of the Hearst campus, celebrating the completion of the last final exam of her undergraduate career with Mac and Parker. Then he walked in the door. When she caught sight of him, after so long, she suddenly had to remember to take her next breath.

What the hell was he doing here? These days, Logan Echolls invariably confined himself to one of two types of drinking establishments. The first were the elegant lounges, like the bar of the Neptune Grand, the _Marina Lounge _at the Neptune Yacht Club, or any number of trendy LA bistros peopled by the famous and near-famous. His other watering hole of choice would have been the kind of dive that smelled of stale beer and staler patrons, anyplace where he wouldn't have to watch out for paparazzi.

_The Rose and Crown _was neither. It was popular with the college crowd, but it was also respectable enough to enjoy the patronage of both the faculty and visiting family on Parents' Weekend. Veronica would have bet that Logan had never been in this place before tonight.

He'd spotted her the second he walked in the door, of course, as though Veronica-radar were a part of his genetic makeup. His eyes locked on hers, and as always, neither could seem to look away. At that moment, Veronica knew with the certainty of more than a decade of experience with this one man, that before the night was over her life would once again be turned upside down.

It had been almost six months since she'd seen Logan, when the most recent iteration of their relationship, Version 7.0 if her count was correct, had crashed and burned just like all the others. Friends, enemies, lovers. Those were the earliest versions, and they'd each worked for a time. Then came Serious Relationship. That one had had definite possibilities freshman year, until their mutual baggage and her sexual insecurities had combined to tear them apart.

Casual Friends. They'd kept that farce going for more than a couple of years, until the sexual tension that always surrounded them like a miasma had become unbearably oppressive to everyone around them. One night, after yet another drinking game had degenerated into an unending round of mutual Logan/Veronica derision, their admittedly drunken friends had locked them in a room together with instructions to "fuck each other into bearability before you don't have any friends left." They'd emerged from that room three days later with Version 6.0 - Friends with Benefits.

But Logan and Veronica were incapable of keeping things light, of remaining uninvolved in each others' lives, of maintaining emotional distance. So FWB had eventually morphed into Version 7.0, Serious Relationship, Part 2. That had been just before the start of their senior year at Hearst. And this time, for a long time, they thought they'd gotten it right.

Veronica was a woman of stunning intellect and incredible focus. She set her goals high and always found a way to meet them. The only thing Veronica had never been able to figure out was how _not_ to sabotage her own happiness.

She was the queen of the self-fulfilling prophecy. She knew, just fucking _knew_, that relationships never worked out, that the people you loved, the ones that you let in, who saw your vulnerabilities up close and personal, well, they were the ones who always let you down. And so they always did.

She knew that in the long run, Logan would never stay with her. Oh, she'd never accuse him of lying. Nope, he really believed he could be faithful. But whether it was Madison Sinclair, or that girl from his Econ class that Veronica saw in his Range Rover on the last night before Christmas break, Veronica knew it was always only a matter of time.

Logan explained every way he could think of that the girl had helped him out several times with class notes and he was just returning the favor by giving her a ride to the bus station on a night where the rain was pouring and the wind was howling. But she'd seen him smile as he helped that girl into his car, and she knew that there was more to it than that. There just had to be. Or else why would she be feeling like this?

Veronica was resolved when she told him that she wouldn't be moving into his new beach house after all.

She was achingly sad and overwhelmingly relieved all at the same time. The worst had happened and she had survived. Now she could move on. At least that had been the theory.

Logan's despair was matched only by his anger. Why the _fuck_ did she keep doing this? He moved into his house alone, but this time he was determined to retain some control over his life.

His last semester as a business major would consist entirely of a practicum at a local company, and he'd already made arrangements to fulfill this requirement at Gant Publishing. He'd only have to venture onto campus occasionally to meet with his advisor. So for the first time in a decade, Logan made the decision to take himself out of Veronica's life completely. He knew with a certainty that at this point, it was the only way he'd be able to survive.

But he didn't even try to fool himself into believing that moving out of Veronica's orbit meant that he'd stopped loving her, or wanting her. Or that he ever could.

Why the hell had he stopped here tonight, he wondered. He could easily have taken them to the _Marina_ or the Grand. But the Gant Publishing execs that Casey had asked him to show around the Hearst campus had spotted the pub and he'd pulled into the parking lot without another thought.

Logan tried to tell himself that he could, and should, ignore the fact that Veronica Mars was sitting not twenty feet away from him. And that she was out with girlfriends, not a boyfriend, so she was maybe - probably - still single. He tried to tell himself that he didn't give a fuck if she was single or not, and that he should leave this place right now.

You might as well ask a starving man to ignore the sudden appearance of the one food that could provide him with sustenance.

He was on his feet and halfway to her table before he even knew he'd left his seat. Logan was never awkward with Veronica. With all the ups and downs of their relationship - ten fucking years! he could hardly believe it - he'd never been nervous when he was near her. Tonight felt different.

"Veronica." Her name felt rusty on his tongue, as though, after six months, he'd forgotten how to say it out loud.

He'd approached her from behind, and he could see her shoulders square, as if girding for battle. But when she turned around and looked up at him, Veronica couldn't stop her face from lighting up at the sight of him.

"Logan. This doesn't seem like your kind of place at all."

"Nope," he said with a laugh. "It's not. But Casey asked me to show around some of the execs visiting from his San Francisco office, and they wanted to stop here." He shrugged. "I owed him."

Without thinking, he sat down in the one of the empty chairs and nodded at the other two girls. "Mac. Parker."

"We haven't seen you around much, Logan," Parker, always the most inquisitive of the group, raised her eyebrows at him.

Logan struggled to tear his eyes away from Veronica, and turned to address the others.

"Semester-long practicum, required for business majors. I did mine at Gant Publishing."

"Oh, yeah. Isn't the owner a young guy? From around here?"

"We went to high school with him." Veronica answered Parker's question, making an effort to focus on anything but Logan's eyes, anything but Logan's lips.

Mac wasn't sure what Veronica wanted of her at this point. Should she drag her out of there bodily, or just let whatever might happen...happen? She opted to defer her decision.

"So how was it, Logan? Working out in the real world, I mean?" Mac asked.

Ordinarily, he could have waxed enthusiastic for hours about his recent experiences at Gant Publishing. But at this moment, he was barely capable of stringing together two coherent sentences.

"It was great, Mac. I really liked it." His eyes turned toward her briefly as he spoke. But his fingers, of their own accord, reached across the table to skitter across Veronica's forearm.

He smiled at Veronica suddenly. She smiled back, unable to do otherwise.

Mac had her answer. "Hey, Logan. Parker and I kind of need to get going. Maybe you wouldn't mind giving Veronica a ride home."

"Whaaat?" Veronica really tried, but they all knew it was a token protest only, as she watched Mac and Parker walk out the door with final waves all around.

"Don't move," he said, as he got up to make arrangements with the executives. He offered to leave them his car, but they took one look at Veronica and at his obvious impatience to be gone, and waved his concerns away with smiles.

"No problem, kid. We'll get a cab. Have a nice night."

"Do you want another drink?" he asked Veronica, as he rejoined her at the table.

"Do you?" she responded, looking at him like she was trying to see inside his head.

"No, not really."

They rose then, and Veronica gathered her belongings, but there was no discussion about where they were going. Their feet simply carried them toward the exit.

They opened the door to rain cascading from the sky in sheets, wild and noisy. Logan raised his voice so she could hear him over the din of the torrential storm.

"Wait here while I get the car."

Then he was off and running toward the parking lot, while Veronica huddled in the doorway, the cold and wet seeping into her thin sweater.

"Get in," he yelled, driving up a minute later, reaching across the seat to throw open the passenger door. Veronica hurried across the short distance from the pub doorway to the car and leaped inside, slamming the door shut.

The sudden quiet inside the Range Rover seemed unnatural after the noise of the driving rain.

Logan looked over at her, grinning hugely as he swiped at the rivulets of water that were running down his face. She shook her hair, spraying moisture across the top of the dash.

"The June Gloom seems a little extreme this year," Veronica laughed shakily, shivering in the sudden cold.

"Warm and dry. Got it." Logan pulled away from the curb. And still there'd been no discussion about their destination.

He raced as fast as he dared along the rain-slicked city streets, heading west toward the pricey beachfront properties owned by the well-to-do. They didn't talk; they didn't need to. Each of them knew what was happening.

He finally pulled into the garage of his small beach house, turned off the motor, and closed the garage door. The downpour that had followed them all the way from the pub could be heard only faintly now. Much louder, it seemed, was the sighing of their breath and the beating of their hearts.

And for the first time since Logan had seen that smile of hers, doubts began to creep in. What the fuck was he doing? he wondered.

But then she looked at him, her mouth just slightly open, her eyes heavy-lidded, and he knew they weren't even going to make it out of the car. He'd unbuckled them both and pulled her across the seat and onto his lap in a matter of seconds.

She kissed him then, fiercely, as though she couldn't last another second until she was breathing in air that had first been in his mouth.

"You know this is inevitable, right?" he said softly. "You. Me. Together. Like this."

"Sh," she said. "Don't talk."

His hands were on her then, rediscovering the map of her body. Their breathing became ragged, their bodies running on instinct. He pulled her sodden sweater over her rain-dampened hair, his palms skimming across her breasts in a reverent caress. The feel of her skin against his was intoxicating. He couldn't seem to touch her enough.

Her hands crept under the back of his shirt and she pulled it over his head, moaning at the feel of his skin against her fingers after missing it for so damned long.

"Veronica. I won't last...I want you now." He was nearly incoherent.

"God, yes," she breathed, their bodies, as always, in harmony. She managed to bring her legs together long enough to remove her scrap of underwear, while he unzipped his pants and freed himself. It took only a moment to slide onto him, and then they were utterly lost, moving frantically, savoring every dearly-missed, oh-so-familiar, sensation.

They struggled, both of them, for some measure of control, but it had been too long and control was elusive. Hers broke first, his followed quickly, and they came to rest against one another, their hearts pounding loudly in the quiet cocoon of his car.

If that one time had been the extent of their reunion, it would have been the shortest in their storied decade-long relationship, but it was not. Logan turned off his doubts and shut down his defenses. Without another word, he carried Veronica from the garage into the house and along the hallway to his bedroom, and he refused to think about anything else.

She was here, and he loved her. And he would make love to her as long as she'd let him. Hours later, sleep finally overtook them, their bodies giving way to a combination of exhilaration and exhaustion.

When Logan woke up in the morning, it was still raining, and Veronica was gone.


	2. Part I Chapter 2

Part I - Chapter 2

It was raining again as Veronica drove home from the Women's Health Center, and she found herself wondering if it would ever _stop_ raining. Southern California had never seen such a wet spring and summer.

The rain suited her mood, though. If only it could drown out her thoughts. She gripped the steering wheel tightly and gave a mirthless little laugh, pondering why she'd even bothered to visit the Health Center. She'd spent many a day over the past few years marching in support of a woman's right to choose, but it turned out that when push came to shove that wasn't going to be _her_ solution.

Well, perhaps it wasn't so ironic after all, she mused. She _was_ choosing. Choosing not to terminate the life that was inside her, choosing instead to have this child. Logan's child. She hoped it was the right choice.

Veronica sighed. Now that she'd made the decision, she'd have to figure out how to tell all the important people in her life. Neither Mac nor Wallace were around at the moment, so she could defer those conversations for at least a little while.

Her dad was a different story. She knew she couldn't put off telling him much longer. And oh, yeah, she just couldn't wait to see the disappointment in his eyes. She'd seen his pride in her at graduation, and again when she was accepted to Stanford Law, and now she'd made a mess of it all.

Stanford. She'd have to get in touch with Stanford, see if she could defer until next year. And if she couldn't, well, there were other law schools. None, of course, of the same caliber. Not without moving across the continent.

But she was going to think positively about Stanford. They _would _allow her to defer, under the circumstances. This was the twenty-first century, right? She couldn't be the first woman to ask for a deferral because she'd gotten herself knocked up by her on-again-off-again boyfriend of nearly a decade whom she hadn't seen for six months before she went crazy with lust...or longing. Or maybe a little of both.

Veronica sighed again as she turned into the parking lot of the complex where she and her dad had lived since she was sixteen. She let herself into the apartment, and headed for her room, exhausted. How could such a tiny being sap so much of her strength? She hadn't even felt like eating much lately. She chuckled to herself. If she didn't tell her dad soon, that alone was going to alert the investigator in him that something wasn't quite right.

But right now her dad would have to wait. She had something she had to do first, something she couldn't put off any longer.

She pulled her phone out of her bag, and scrolled down until she reached Logan's number. Veronica wondered what it said about the strength of their connection that no matter what the status of their relationship, she'd never been able to bring herself to delete his number.

She'd seen him only once since that night, and even then solely because he'd tracked her down and cornered her. Before that, there'd been dozens of phone calls, and even more texts. Logan was nothing if not stubborn. Persistent.

But she'd pushed him away every time.

As soon as she'd woken up next to him that morning, with the sound of the rain batting against the red-tiled roof of his beach house, she'd known that she'd made a terrible mistake.

Six months apart, and it had taken only one glance, one smile, and she'd been caught all over again. She couldn't even blame the alcohol, because she'd barely taken a sip of her second drink when Logan had come waltzing over to their table, looked into her eyes, and mesmerized her, just like he'd been doing to her since she was 16 years old.

At least, that's how she preferred to think of it. She must have been mesmerized, or hypnotized, or some other "ized," because how else could she rationalize jumping into bed with him without a second thought. Without, if she were being perfectly honest, any thought at all. Her face heated as she remembered that they hadn't even made it out of the car that first time.

That's when it probably happened, she figured. When that tenacious Echolls sperm had made its journey to the egg and completed the job of fertilization. She thought about all those charts Ms. Hauser used to have back in Health Ed. Maybe she should have paid more attention.

Of course, once they'd gotten into Logan's bedroom, he'd pulled out a box of condoms from the drawer of his nightstand. She laughed ruefully. Wasn't there an old saying about "closing the barn door after the horses had bolted"? Well, these particular horses appear to have moved like lightning.

She'd known he'd be upset when he found her gone that morning. But she'd been too afraid to stay. She'd written the note and called a cab, and then waited outside in the drizzling rain just to make sure he didn't wake up, see right through her ruse, and send the cab away when it arrived.

It had been so terribly hard to leave. She'd woken up, looked over at his naked body, and wanted so badly to curl up against him and just stay there forever. It had terrified her that when she was with him, she could still feel so damned much.

He made her want things that she knew she could never have. Intimacy. Fidelity. Eternal love. She'd already learned over and over again that life just didn't work that way.

Veronica sighed now, remembering that moment with vivid clarity, as she pressed Logan's number. She wondered if he was even around this summer. He'd finally stopped calling a couple of weeks ago, just about the time that Veronica had begun to suspect that her nausea and fatigue were not symptoms of a persistent strain of the flu. Sometimes irony just followed them around like a lost puppy.

When Logan didn't answer, she left a message, and had to wait only ten minutes for his return call.

"I'd pretty much given up on ever hearing from you, Veronica." His tone wasn't hostile, but it was wary.

"Uh, I just need to talk to you. It won't take long. Can you meet me somewhere? Maybe the lounge at the Grand?"

"Actually, I'm in L.A. with...a friend." he said. "But I can be back by about six and meet you then. How's that?"

"That's fine, Logan. Six it is." She hung up before she could open her mouth to ask about either the friend or the noises she'd heard in the background. It had sounded like he was in a club.

_Didn't take him too long to move on._

The thought came to her unbidden, and she knew that it wasn't fair. That if she'd agreed to see him again, he would have been happy not to move on at all. But she couldn't seem to help herself.

_Goddammit,Veronica! You can't have it both ways. _Her head had always known that. It was her heart that was the problem.

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The long drive from L.A. to Neptune gave Logan the chance to get over the shock of Veronica's call, and to ponder her sudden request for conversation. Why _now_, he wondered, when he'd done nothing but try to get her to talk to him for the past six weeks. Ever since he'd woken up to an empty bed and very little explanation.

He'd been euphoric that morning, visions of his night with Veronica filling his head and her scent all over his sheets. So when he'd found the other side of the bed empty, it hadn't at first occurred to him that she might be gone. She must be in the bathroom, he'd thought. Or the kitchen.

That's how stupid he'd been. Stupidly in love.

It had taken him a half hour to find her note propped up against an empty milk carton on the kitchen table. She had to leave, she'd said. An appointment, she'd said. He'd known it was bullshit immediately. And yes, he was hurt. But even more, he was bewildered. Didn't she understand that they were never going to get over each other? Hadn't last night shown her that?

So he'd called and he'd texted, and at first, she'd answered his calls, and responded to his texts. But all she'd say was that it had been a 'mistake'. She might as well have been reading from a goddamned script, because the dialogue never varied. _They should have been more sensible. It had been a huge mistake. There was no chance they could get back together. _

When she'd stopped taking his calls and answering his texts altogether, Logan knew he'd have to confront her. Damn! Why was she so fucking stubborn?

He'd wanted to catch her alone, someplace where she couldn't immediately run off, but he didn't he want to invade her home. He remembered all too well the last confrontation he'd had with her in the Mars living room. It hadn't ended well.

She'd taught him a bit about surveillance, but never did he think he'd be using that knowledge in quite this way. He finally saw his opportunity one day about a week after she'd stopped taking his calls. He'd followed her to Mars Investigations and saw her father leave the building almost immediately and taken his chance.

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Okay, he thought, this should work. _You won't want to cause a ruckus in the office because you never know who might be right outside. _He knocked on the door and then opened it before she'd even responded.

"Logan!" She stood up abruptly. "What are you doing here?" She was practically hissing.

Logan moved to a spot just inside the office and closed the door behind him. His voice remained calm, but his words were like bullets aiming for a vital spot. "She doesn't take my calls, she won't answer my texts...she decamps from my bedroom in the middle of the night..."

"It was _not_ the middle of the night!"

"...in the _fucking_ middle of the night, and now she wonders why I'm here."

Veronica was still, except for the arms she wrapped around her body, as if for protection against the bite of his words and the harshness of his tone.

"This isn't going to work, Logan. _We _aren't going to work. We never do. And no matter how much you harass me, I'm not going to say anything different."

"So we can't even have a discussion like two rational adults? We aren't kids anymore, Veronica."

"You're right, Logan, we're not kids, and you can't expect me to...to feel like I did when I was sixteen."

"Why not?!" he shot back. "I do. And so do you. You're just too damned stubborn to admit it." His voice had risen with his frustration level, and by now he was practically shouting.

He heard the door open behind him and he swung around, half-afraid he would find it was Keith returning. But it was a middle-aged woman in a blue coat.

"I can come back if you're busy, Miss Mars," she said timidly.

"No, no, come right in. This...gentleman was just leaving."

Logan felt her hand on his elbow as she pulled him out into the corridor.

"Don't do this again, Logan," she said. "I can't have you just...just...invading my personal space."

Her eyes narrowed as she hissed at him. "I do remember being sixteen, and taking care of this jackass who was making my life a living hell by planting a bong in his locker. Bet I could come up with something even more creative nowadays."

He looked at her in amazement. _Now_ she was finally copping to that - and threatening him with worse! He wondered why the hell he was even bothering.

"See you around,Veronica," he said as he slammed out the door.

Well, he thought, that went well.

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In desperation, he'd called Mac for advice. He knew he shouldn't put her in the middle, but maybe she'd felt sorry for him, because it was from Mac that he'd finally heard about law school. He couldn't believe that Veronica hadn't told him herself.

Yeah, they'd had plenty of sex that night, making up for lost time. But they'd also talked. About school, about their friends, about what they'd been up to in the last six months. He'd regaled her with a million stories about his meteoric rise from office boy to executive during his practicum at Gant Publishing.

She'd teased him about having an "in" with the big boss, and he'd explained to her very seriously that the practicum was supposed to get him involved in every level of the business. She'd laughed at his earnestness and told him his enthusiasm was kind of "hot." And then that had been the end of that conversation.

But with all they'd shared that night, not once had the words "law school" ever passed her lips.

It had been more than a week now since he'd spoken to Mac. Every day since, he'd wondered if he should try again with Veronica, try calling her, or cornering her. And now, suddenly, she wanted to talk to him. Somehow, he wasn't convinced he wanted to hear what she might have to say.

After nearly two hours on the road, Logan pulled into the garage at the Grand and parked. A sudden reluctance to open the door had him wondering whether what he was feeling right then was anticipation or anxiety.

_You are such a fucking coward, Echolls. You wanted to talk to her. Here's your chance._

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The Neptune Grand lounge was nearly empty when Logan walked in and looked around for Veronica, finally spotting her sitting at a small table in the darkest corner of the room.

She looked up when she saw him approaching.

"Hey," she said, and it seemed to him that she looked particularly small tonight, maybe even a little forlorn, but that was probably just his imagination.

"Hey, yourself. Do you want anything?" Logan motioned toward the bar.

She looked down at her drink as if she'd forgotten it was there.

"Uh, yeah, sure," she said. "You can get me a club soda."

_A club soda? _ Well, why the hell not? Maybe she needed to be sober for whatever the fuck it was she was going to lay on him. He had a sudden terrible fear she was going to tell him she was sick, dying. But would she want to meet him in the lounge at the Grand to give him that kind of information? He shook his head to rid himself of such morbid thoughts.

When Logan returned with their drinks, he sat down facing her.

Veronica looked up then and tried to smile, but he thought it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"How've you been, Logan?" she asked casually, as if nothing was going on between them, as if nothing had ever gone on between them.

His eyes narrowed as he studied her. He was too nervous, too anxious for small talk. If this was another round of _you're out of my life forever, _he wanted her to just get on with it.

"This really doesn't feel like a chit-chat moment to me, Veronica. I've been trying to get you to talk to me for six fucking weeks." Anxiety was making him sound harsher than he intended. "Not much more than a week ago, you were threatening me with god knows what if I didn't leave you alone. Obviously, there's something going on that you want to talk to me about, so why don't you just rip the band-aid off and get it over with."

"Fine," she said curtly, with just the smallest hint of bravado. She looked down then, focusing on her hands, watching them intently as they spasmodically rubbed up and down the surface of the glass tumbler.

"I'm pregnant."

It took a few beats for the meaning of her words to sink in. "What did you say?"

She looked up then, and he suddenly saw how nervous she was.

"I'm pregnant, Logan."

"Okay," he said, his voice, his whole demeanor, unconsciously softening. "Are you sure?"

"As sure as three pink plus signs on three different home pregnancy tests. And then, yeah," she conceded, "I went to the Women's Health Center and had it confirmed."

Logan nodded, trying to take it all in. He'd never suspected that _this_ was why she'd wanted to talk to him.

"It was in the car, wasn't it?" he said, remembering how it had been, how full of joy he'd felt to be with her again. How quickly they'd gotten out of control.

"Yeah," she said, softly. "Must have been."

Logan took a deep breath, desperate to offer his support, but unsure exactly what it was she wanted from him.

"What can I do to help you with this, Veronica?" Logan was certain that the next words out of her mouth were going to be a request to accompany her when she had the pregnancy terminated. The Veronica Mars he'd known for more than ten years had never wanted anything to do with motherhood. It was her body, and her choice, and he knew he had to support her decision.

"Do you need me to come with you?" She'd been quiet for a while now, and he wanted to reassure her. "Because that's not a problem. You just tell me when and I'll take you. I'd never let you go through this alone." His voice trailed off uncertainly as he caught the expression on her face.

Her mouth twisted in anger. "Well, you seem to have this all worked out. Do I get a vote?" The words were as bitter as the expression on her face.

"Of course you do," he hissed. "Yours is the only one that matters, but you already know that. What the hell is wrong with you? You asked me here for a reason, didn't you? I thought it was because maybe you actually needed me. But no, that's not it at all, is it?" He sighed. "It's still pretty much business as usual, right, Veronica?"

She barely waited for him to finish before she charged in.

"What's wrong with me? Here's what's wrong with me. I tell you I'm pregnant with our child, and all you can think about is how fast you can get me down to some clinic so you can hold my hand while I get rid of it." Each word was bitten off with contempt.

"Well, screw you," she said, as she rose from her seat, shaking with anger, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I don't need this."

Logan reached out and grabbed her wrist before she could take a step, holding her in place with the lightest of pressures.

"Veronica...sit down." He saw her stubborn, set face and added, more softly, "Please."

Veronica sat, but her expression didn't change.

Logan couldn't bring himself to let go of her wrist, terrified that she'd try to leave again. He wracked his brain for the best way to continue the conversation, a way that wouldn't make her angrier than she already was, and he finally settled on being direct.

"You want to keep this baby. _Our_ baby." His voice was tentative. He'd made it a statement, not a question, but still, he waited for her response.

"Yes," she said, chin raised in defiance. "I do."

She hurried on, and it was clear to Logan that she already had it all worked out, and that he wasn't going to figure anywhere in her plan.

"I don't need anything from you, Logan. I can sign any paper you want that this baby will have no claim on you...or your money." Her eyes swung down to where his hand was now lightly holding her wrist, and then back to his face. "I just thought you had the right to know. That's all."

She leaned back a little then, as though she'd said what she'd come to say and could finally relax. He let go of her wrist then, no longer afraid she would run out on him, as he rapidly tried to readjust to what she was saying.

Logan picked up her hand, clutching it tightly, and thought about everything she'd told him in the last few minutes. And everything he needed to say in return, if she'd just give him the chance.

"Okay, Veronica, you've had your say, so how about now I have mine?"

She sat there, waiting, as still as a stone.

"This baby you're having is part of _me!_ Look around, Veronica. How much family do I have? Trina? That's a laugh. And now you're telling me that I have a child coming into the world and you think I'll want nothing to do with it?"

As he spoke, his voice had gotten softer and softer. And he was still clutching her hand.

"You've already decided that _we_ don't work, but you don't get to decide _this_. I want in, Veronica. I want in."

He suddenly felt like pinching himself to see if this was really happening. Veronica was having his baby...and he was okay with it. More than okay. He was fucking overjoyed.

Who'd have ever thought that he'd be overjoyed at the prospect of becoming a father?

Veronica had been sitting there, silently watching and listening, but now he could see the beginnings of a smile on her face. He rubbed his thumb softly across the back of her hand, the hand that he'd never let go of. He grinned suddenly, feeling absurdly happy.

"Well, Mars, it looks like we're about to become parents," he said, his grin widening. "When do we get to give the expectant grandpa a heart attack with the news?"

Veronica shook her head as if to clear it, and then she, too, began to grin. "No time like the present, I guess."

xxxxxxxx

Her dad was taking the news amazingly well, Veronica thought. Maybe he _had_ been a little suspicious, after all. It was a relief not to have to hide it from him any longer.

All he'd said was, "You're not kids anymore, so I have to assume that you know what you're doing." Keith had always known when to bow to the inevitable.

"Thanks, Dad." Veronica hugged him. "I think you just want an excuse to buy all that Padres stuff they have for babies," she added, smiling at Keith's sudden guilty look.

She was amused by the wary expression on Logan's face as he stood beside her. He looked like he was waiting for her dad to pull out one of his guns and take potshots at his private parts. Veronica began to laugh hysterically, whether from relief or from her silly, solitary musings, she wasn't sure.

Both men looked at her like she'd gone crazy.

"Hormones," Keith intoned, shaking his head. "Mood swings. Cravings. Ah, yes, I remember it well." He smirked at Logan. "Good luck."

"Uh, Dad, why are you wishing Logan good luck? I think you're the one who's going to be needing the luck since I'll be living here."

Keith's eyes narrowed and the look he gave Logan was suddenly unfriendly.

"I don't understand," he said, swinging his eyes back toward Veronica. "You're here together to tell me, you obviously made this baby together, but..."

"But we're not together," Veronica matter-of-factly finished the thought for him.

"Why not?" he asked Logan.

"I think you'll need to ask your daughter about that, Mr. Mars."

Keith looked to Veronica for an explanation, but she just shook her head.

He sighed. His daughter had always been incredibly stubborn. He knew he'd get nowhere if he tried to press her for an explanation today.

He moved the conversation in another direction. "What about law school, Veronica? Stanford?"

"Well, there is some good news there, Dad. I talked to them this afternoon and there's a very good chance that I can get them to defer my admission until next year."

Logan turned to look at her. "You didn't tell me that," he said. "That's great news."

"I didn't think you knew about Stanford." Veronica looked at him in surprise. "Unless...Mac told you, didn't she?"

"Yes, she did, but only after I pushed. I don't understand why you didn't tell me yourself." His confusion about this issue was obvious. "I would have been happy for you."

Keith sighed as he looked at the two of them. He never would understand their relationship, but he'd come to accept that there was a connection between them that was probably never going away. And now with this baby...yeah, he might as well get used to the idea that Logan Echolls would be a part of his life forever.


	3. Part I - Chapter 3

Part I - Chapter 3

Over the next few days, while Veronica concentrated on lining up an obstetrician, and mulled over how long she might be able to fit into her regular clothing, Logan had been thinking more long-term.

That night at the Grand, Veronica had told him that she wanted nothing material from him for either herself or the baby. As far as he was concerned, that was bullshit. Logan was very wealthy, and uppermost in his mind these days was how to ensure that his child - and its mother - would always be provided for.

He'd thought about contacting his accountant, Avi Kaufman, but finally decided that what he really needed wasn't financial advice, but legal advice. He had access to some very high-powered attorneys in L.A., but eventually decided to seek the answers to his questions much closer to home.

No one was in the outer office when he got to the somewhat rundown suite of rooms located in a building not far from Mars Investigations. He tapped lightly on the door that read "Cliff McCormack, Attorney-at-Law."

"Enter."

There was no mistaking that voice, Logan thought, as he opened the door and poked his head inside.

Cliff had been sitting behind his desk gazing out the lone window, but his attention shifted when he saw who was standing in his doorway.

"Ah, Mr. Echolls," he said. "Buying another house, or is it just the usual? Murder? Mayhem? DUI?"

"None of the above," Logan smirked, still holding onto the doorknob. He liked Cliff's irreverence, particularly after the obsequiousness of most of his other lawyers. "This is something different, something new."

"There's nothing new under the sun, kid, but okay, hit me with it." He looked at Logan expectantly, waving him into the chair on the other side of his desk.

"What if I was to have...a kid?" Logan asked, taking a seat.

"Well, since I don't think you're asking about medical miracles, I'm going to assume that there's a young lady involved." He studied Logan. "Unless we're talking hypotheticals here?"

"Not...hypothetical. Very much real." He was surprised to find himself a little embarrassed.

Cliff steepled his fingers and looked closely at Logan. "And do I by any chance know the lucky young lady who is about to become the mother of this brand-new Echolls?"

Logan squirmed a little, cursing himself for not anticipating that Cliff would immediately suss out that he was talking about Veronica.

When Logan didn't answer, Cliff looked thoughtful. "While I agree that babies are a new adventure for _you,_ most people don't seek out legal advice at the prospect of becoming a father." He paused. "Unless you're somehow...disputing...the facts of the case?"

"God, no," Logan responded. "It's mine. And...of course it's Veronica who's pregnant. But no one else knows yet except her dad."

Cliff nodded, waiting.

Logan sighed. "I'm not like most other expectant fathers. I have...assets. And I want to be sure that my child is taken care of...no matter what."

"Well," Cliff said. "It's easy enough to set up a trust fund. That should do it."

"Nope. Not good enough," Logan said. "I want to make sure that this kid gets everything I have. And that...uh, its mother is taken care of as well."

Cliff looked quizzical. "Is there something here you're not telling me, kid? You planning to be pushing up daisies sometime soon?"

"No," Logan responded, looking at Cliff intently, "but I think you'll agree that my personal experiences have taught me that life often shits all over you when you least expect it."

Cliff sighed. "Point taken."

He thought a moment. "Well, we can draw up a new will, leaving everything to the kid, with Veronica as trustee while he or she is a minor."

"Could the will be contested? By another family member, for instance?"

"Like?"

"Like my sister. Could she try to contest, say the kid isn't mine or something?"

"I suppose she could, but as soon as the kid's born, we'll get a paternity test done, and that would likely be the end of any lawsuit."

"When the kid's born? Likely?" Logan frowned. That just wasn't going to cut it. "What about now? I mean, it's not due until next March. What if something happens to me before it's born?"

"I never knew you to have such a morbid turn of mind, kid." Cliff sighed. "The best protection for both Veronica and any child would be marriage, of course. I don't suppose you've thought of that solution. It's the one most folks rely on in this situation."

Logan shook his head in frustration. "If I thought I could get Veronica to marry me, you'd be getting an invitation to the wedding, and we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Veronica does have a mind of her own. A steel trap mind of her own," Cliff conceded.

"So?" Logan had been worrying about this for weeks, and he wasn't leaving without some kind of plan in place.

"Honestly, Logan," Cliff continued. "How likely is it that your sister...what's her name?"

"Trina."

"...your sister, Trina, would contest your will? Assuming, that is, you happen to die in the next seven months?" Cliff asked drily.

"If she thought she could get away with it, then very likely. Besides, you know Veronica. If Trina could convince her that she was benefitting from something she wasn't entitled to..."

"Yup, you're right. She'd maybe take something for the kid, but give the rest away."

Logan sat there in frustrated silence. He'd had a feeling that would be Cliff's opinion, and he was in complete agreement.

"So what do I do? I can't just assume that nothing will happen to me before this baby is born."

Cliff gave him a sympathetic look. "Actually, I think the odds are pretty much in your favor..."

Logan looked mutinous, and Cliff held up his hand to forestall whatever remark Logan was about to make.

"Okay, here's the best solution to your problem. Convince Veronica Mars to marry you. And good luck with that."

xxxxxxxx

Veronica didn't know what to do with herself. She was used to a constant round of activity, and the enforced slowdown brought on by her pregnancy was driving her nuts.

Not that anyone had told her to stop living. On the contrary, her doctor, and her father, and even Logan, had all thought she should keep to her normal schedule, at least for a while. The trouble was she didn't really _have _a schedule.

School was over. She'd gotten into Stanford Law, and between the LSATs and the application process, that had accounted for a lot of her time over the past year. That was on hold for now, of course, and she'd already sent them the required documentation to secure her deferral. So law school could officially takes its place on the back burner.

As for her cases, she really hadn't had the time in the past year to take on much, so she'd mostly just been helping her dad when he needed her by covering the office, or with some occasional light field work. And she knew she could continue with that, maybe even put in more hours now that she was done with Hearst. She knew in her head, that is. Her body was telling her differently.

Veronica was tired. And when she wasn't tired, she was nauseated. And then she was tired again. It seemed all she wanted to do was nap.

She spoke to her doctor, who assured her that everyone's pregnancy was a little different and that she'd probably feel better as she transitioned into her second trimester. She quizzed Veronica closely on how much activity she could handle and told her that her fatigue level was well within normal parameters.

"Use it as an excuse to be a couch potato for a few weeks," she told her with a smile, "as long as you're getting _some_ exercise. You'll have more energy soon enough. And after the baby arrives, you'll be lucky to get a minute to yourself."

Veronica liked Dr. Patel, but she obviously didn't know Veronica Mars well if she expected her to enjoy sitting around being unproductive.

"It's temporary, Veronica. Isn't that what the doctor said?" Logan reminded her when they got back from the appointment, and she was settled, once again, on the couch in her apartment.

"But I'm bored," she whined like a six-year-old on a rainy day. "I've seen every movie we have at least three times. And the TV is so tiny. I keep trying to get Dad to buy a bigger one. Even tried the old 'Can you imagine how great it would be to watch the Padres on a big screen?'. Complete with the head tilt," she added with a pout. "But he didn't bite."

"I think maybe your dad's immune to the head tilt by now, Veronica," Logan smirked.

"And I'm hot." The litany of complaints continued. "The air conditioning in this place never worked right. And now it's not working at all." Both her face and her voice conveyed her extreme displeasure that the fates were conspiring to ensure that she was neither entertained nor comfortable.

Logan tried hard not to laugh. "Well, I have the solution to both of those problems." He grabbed her hand and started to pull her off the couch.

"Wait. Where are we going?" As always, when Logan had an idea, he wasted no time trying to implement it.

"My place," he said.

Veronica pulled her hand away. "I thought we'd had this discussion, Logan."

"Relax, Mars. I just thought you'd like to spend some time in my air-conditioned media room."

"Media room? I don't remember seeing a media room when I was at your house?" Veronica, as always, was suspicious.

"Did you see anything at all except my bedroom?" Logan shot back in a flash.

Veronica blushed and stuck out her tongue.

That _did_ provoke a laugh from Logan. "Come on," he said. "You can start cooling off in about fifteen seconds in my air-conditioned car. And I've got all your favorite movies. And a freezer full of ice cream," one of the few foods that Veronica seemed able to tolerate.

"Okay," she capitulated suddenly, too hot and bored to argue further. "But no funny business, Echolls."

"Cross my heart," Logan said. And silently added, _at least not today. _

xxxxxxxx

Over the next couple of weeks, Veronica spent more and more time at Logan's. It was roomy and comfortable, provided first-class entertainment, and Logan catered to her every whim. The nausea had started to lessen, but she was still feeling excessively tired.

Logan had put his own life on hold, grateful that his wealth allowed him to work or not as the spirit moved him. Besides, he was still mulling over exactly how to utilize the talent for business that he'd discovered in himself while working at Gant. He'd originally declared a business major on a whim, so he'd been surprised to find he might actually like it.

Logan and Veronica were getting along better than ever, perhaps because the relationship had well-defined parameters, and, in many ways, an end point. How they would deal with their interconnected lives post-baby, neither one of them knew.

But Logan hadn't forgotten his fears about providing financial support for the baby. It was the middle of August, now, and the baby was becoming more and more real to him, and he was having trouble sleeping at night. His favorite forms of distraction - booze and women - somehow didn't seem like a good idea this time.

He was finally driven to act by some tragic news about one of their Neptune High classmates, Luke Haldemann, who had been killed in a car crash in L.A. After he read about Luke on Facebook, Logan knew he wasn't going to have a good night's sleep until he could be sure that the people he loved most in the world would be taken care of, no matter what.

Logan found Veronica giggling in front of _The Big Lebowski_ for about the millionth time, and he quietly shut off the TV. She looked up, befuddled.

"Forget to pay your electric bill, Logan?" she asked sarcastically. "Nope. Lights are still working, air-conditioner's still on, but the TV is somehow off."

"Veronica, I need to talk to you." He broke in on her monologue abruptly as he sat down on the couch beside her.

"What is it?" As always, Veronica was wary, cautious. "What's the matter?"

He knew he probably should start at the beginning, explain everything carefully, lay it all out meticulously. Step-by-step, that would be the ticket to getting what he wanted, what he needed, for his own peace of mind. But he was Logan, and logic had never been his middle name.

He took a deep breath. "Veronica, I think we should get married."

She sat up so suddenly she almost fell over. "Logan, what the _hell_ are you talking about?!"

Logan could be very persuasive, but he knew he wouldn't get many chances to convince her, so he focused his entire personality on making the most of this one.

"I'm concerned that if something happens to me, this kid that you're carrying, _my_ kid, won't get everything that I have. And I want our baby to have everything I can give it."

Veronica broke in. "I've already told you, Logan, we don't need anything from you." She was beginning to get angry.

"Well, you know, Veronica, that sentiment would be just fine if you'd been able to create that baby all by yourself. But we both know that's not how it works." He was getting a little angry himself, and he knew that anger would get him nowhere.

He ran his hand through his hair, forcing himself to calm down.

"Look," he said. "I know that you are the _least_ mercenary woman in this godawful town." He huffed a little laugh. "Make that on the entire planet. And I know you were never with me - in whatever fucked up ways we've been together over the past decade - for my money, or my status, or anything else that wasn't just, well, me."

His voice softened then and he reached his hand up as though to stroke her cheek, but just as quickly dropped it.

He sighed. "But the fact remains that that's _my kid_ that's growing inside you. And the idea that he or she, whatever, wouldn't get everything I own if something should happen to me, well, goddammit, I can't fucking sleep at night."

Logan's shoulders slumped with the effort of trying to explain to Veronica just how crazy this was making him. He chanced a look at her then, and her incipient anger seemed to have vanished, only to be replaced by something sadder.

"Logan," she could hardly get his name out. "Is there something you're not...are you sick?"

He could see the tears glistening in her eyes, and he was kicking himself for being so stupid. He should have remembered that badass Veronica was really a cream puff inside.

"No, no," he said softly, gathering her into his arms. "I'm sorry if I scared you. No, I'm not sick, I'm not dying, nothing like that."

He pulled back from her and looked into her eyes, quirking a small smile. "I haven't had any bad news about my health. It's just that I've become resigned to the idea that life is always just about to kick me in the balls, and I want to make sure that the new Echolls that's arriving in a few months is taken care of, no matter what."

"Well, if you're really that concerned, I suppose you could set up a trust fund..." Veronica began.

Logan smiled. "Hey, Veronica, you're beginning to sound like a lawyer already." He knew he was going to have to come clean then. "I've been over all this with Cliff, and that was _his_ first suggestion."

"You told Cliff about the baby?" Veronica did not sound pleased.

"Well, I needed some legal advice, so I saw a lawyer." He sighed. "And I didn't actually mention your name, but yeah, he figured it out," he admitted. "I'm glad I did, because Cliff was pretty clear about everything."

"What is it you're trying to tell me?"

"My point is that I wouldn't want this kid to have _some_ of my wealth, like a trust fund, I'd want him to have _all_ of it. And the problem seems to be that no matter what I do, if I...die...before next March, that baby won't really be protected unless we're married. If I didn't have so goddamned much money, it probably wouldn't matter. But I do, and it does."

Veronica reflected for a moment. "Logan, you know that the chances of you dying..."

"Yeah? I'll bet that's what Luke Haldemann thought, too, when he got out of bed yesterday. But now I'm reading about his funeral arrangements on Facebook."

She was quiet then, contemplative.

"And then, of course, there's Charlie." Logan spoke again.

"Charlie?"

"Charlie Stone. You remember him. My bastard half-brother, who still won't talk to me, even after three years." And that still hurt whenever he thought about it.

"Logan, don't call him that!" Veronica was appalled.

"Why the hell not?! That's what he is. The bastard son of Aaron Echolls. Good enough to throw money at all these years, but not good enough to acknowledge, to make legitimate."

"The world has changed a lot. No one thinks like that anymore."

"Has it really? I don't think it's changed _that_ much. The son of that fuck-up, Logan Echolls, grandson of the murdering seducer, Aaron Echolls? That will be enough of a cross to bear. But the _bastard _son of the fuck-up, the _illegitimate_ grandson of the murderer, well, now we've got the makings of a best seller. In the pulp fiction section, of course."

His eyes settled on a distant point in the room, and he had a troubled look on his face, as if he was imagining that very book on display in some shop window.

Veronica reached up then and stroked Logan's neck, forcing his head down to look her in the eye. "You're not a fuck-up, Logan," she said. "And besides," she smirked, "it might be a girl."

And suddenly they were both giggling a little, able, as always, to find humor in the farce that sometimes passed as their lives. It was how they'd made it this far.

But then the giggles subsided, and Veronica looked as though she were trying to find a way to couch her next words.

"Logan..." she began, but that was as far as she got.

"Don't bother. I know what you're going to say. That we don't work together, at least not like that, so how can you possibly marry me? Am I right?"

She looked at him for a moment, and then gave him a curt nod.

He took a deep breath. "I'm perfectly willing to have this be a 'marriage in name only'." He looked up at her then, but her expression was unreadable, so he continued. "If that's what you want. There's plenty of room here and you can pretend I'm not even in the house."

That brought a smile from Veronica. Who, the expression on her face said, could _ever_ pretend that Logan wasn't around?

"And then, sometime after the baby is born, you can have a divorce. Whenever you want it. You can wait until you're finished with school. Or not. You get to decide." He paused for a moment.

"We'll figure out a way to make it work with the kid. But you can get on with your own life. And I'll get on with mine."

Veronica looked at him then with an odd expression, as though she'd never once considered the possibility of Logan 'getting on' with his life.

He smiled at her. "And I promise not to give you a single cent. You'll get nothing at all from this dude. We can even have a pre-nup that says 'Veronica gets nothing'," his right arm shot out, writing it in the air with a flourish, "if it would make you feel better."

He picked up her hand and squeezed it. "I want this child to have the best start in life, to be burdened with as few negative labels as possible. And to have everything I can give him," he smiled, "or her."

Logan got up from the couch. "And I'm not crazy enough to expect an answer from you right now. But...please don't take too long to decide."

xxxxxxxx

The next day, the air conditioning in their apartment complex was finally repaired, so Veronica called Logan and told him she was going to stay home that day. Her place was nice and cool, and she had a lot of stuff she'd been neglecting, she said. He didn't question her. He just said, "Fine," in that smug way he had, like he knew she really meant something else entirely.

But she did have things to do. Her personal laundry, for instance. Then she remembered that she'd brought her dirty laundry to Logan's a few days earlier and used his laundry room. (And who would have thought a laundry room could feel like such a luxury?).

Nevertheless, she was sure she must have a few pieces of lingerie to hand wash. After poking around her room, she finally found a couple of bras that had been too delicate for the machine, and quickly dispensed with them.

Fifteen minutes gone. What next?

Baby names. Yup, she'd been putting off even thinking about that until they found out the sex of the baby, but now she thought better of that plan. She hated procrastinators.

But when she began looking through the books, every time she stopped to consider whether Cameron or Rowena might work, she'd wonder immediately about Logan's opinion. Grrrr!

Find baby name books? Thirty minutes. Look through and decide that baby-naming was a two-person job? Two minutes. Total: thirty-two minutes.

Then what about cleaning? Cleaning had always been a go-to activity for Veronica when she was restless. Problem was, by the time she made her bed and put away the dishes in the dishwasher, there was nothing left to do. Keith was not a messy person, and her prolonged absences over the last couple of weeks had actually meant that the place was a little neater than usual. She supposed she could swill out the toilets.

She lingered over the few chores as long as she could, but her total cleaning time still came to only twenty-three minutes.

By the time Veronica collapsed onto the couch for a short rest, she was considering whether she should try to find her old stopwatch so that she could time her activities for the day.

Not that she didn't know exactly what she was doing. Or not doing. She suddenly remembered that she hated procrastinators.

Veronica sighed and made herself a cup of hot tea, a poor substitute for the highly-caffeinated brew that she loved, but better than nothing. She brought it to the couch, the second-hand one that Keith had bought when they'd moved in there seven years ago, and relaxed into its familiar comfort.

And because she couldn't let herself put it off for one second longer, she began to reflect on yesterday's conversation with Logan.

He'd proposed. Well, she supposed it was more like a proposition. A business proposition. Still, considering everything that they'd been through over the past several years, not to mention her own oft-stated opinion about marriage, it was a shock to her that he'd even suggested it.

Let's face it, she thought. Romantic proposal or business proposition, if she agreed, they'd end up in exactly the same place. Married. At least for a while.

She hadn't forgotten that Logan had also proposed an out-clause. After the baby was born, he'd agree to a divorce. They'd work out an arrangement regarding their child. _Their child. _ Sometimes she could hardly believe it was really happening.

She knew that it must have taken some courage on Logan's part to even broach the subject with her, so the depth of his concern must be significant. He'd been looking a little haggard lately, and she'd been wondering if perhaps he wasn't sleeping well.

Now she knew why.

Veronica sipped her tea and tried to consider all the ramifications. The child would have the protection of a legal father, as well as his wealth. Veronica wasn't interested Logan's money, never had been, but that didn't mean she wanted to deprive her child.

She knew that she _could_ provide for him...her...all by herself, if she had to. But how could she deny a father the same opportunity, the same chance to care for his child? Just because Logan could give the child more...everything, didn't mean that it wouldn't be offered with just as much concern, with just as much love.

Veronica smiled, suddenly picturing Logan unable to decide what to get the kid for his birthday - and ending up just buying it all! She knew she was going to have to be vigilant to keep him from completely spoiling their child.

She grinned. Just look at how he spoiled her.

But unlike his own father, unlike that _bastard _Aaron Echolls, Logan would want to be a real father, and not some phony Hollywood-scripted version of one. She knew that once the baby was a reality, he'd have more to offer than just his bank account, even if that's what was keeping him awake at night right now.

Veronica sighed. And about that other thing. She'd been surprised when Logan had brought it up, because she wasn't really sure that it mattered these days if a child's parents were married. She didn't think the stigma of bastardy stung quite so much as it had in the past. But Logan did. And, after all, it wasn't she who'd have to suffer it, no matter the sharpness of the sting. It was her child.

It was then that it occurred to Veronica that she was seriously considering taking this step. Really, seriously considering...getting married. To Logan Echolls. (Although she knew damn well that if it were anyone else, she wouldn't be considering it at all.)

Before she decided, maybe she should think about talking it all over with someone else. But here, her options were severely limited. Her dad? No need to even ask. She was pregnant, and he was her father. End of story.

Wallace...had been in Chicago since right after his last final. His father, the one he hadn't even known about for the first sixteen years of his life, had been shot in the line of duty, and was still recovering. Wallace hadn't even made it to graduation. She'd talked to him a few times, but she hadn't told him anything about what was going on with her because he already had enough on his plate.

Besides, as much as she loved Wallace, as much as she missed his company and valued his opinion, Wallace was still a guy. And this was a conversation she'd really prefer to have with another woman.

That left Mac. Veronica smiled. Yep, she could definitely have a woman-to-woman talk with Mac about her pregnancy, about Logan, about every single thing that had happened. And probably if Mac had been around she'd have already confided in her long ago. But she had gotten a fabulous job offer in San Francisco, and had left immediately after graduation.

Mac was busy and excited, and Veronica wanted her to enjoy this opportunity that she'd worked so hard for. Veronica had finally been able to casually slip into their last phone conversation that she was deferring law school for a year. She'd known she had to say _something_ because Mac had kept talking about all the things the two of them could do once Veronica moved to Palo Alto.

Mac had been disappointed, but she'd accepted Veronica's excuse that it was a financial decision, and not asked too many questions. She knew that if Mac had any inkling about what was _really_ going on in Veronica's life, she'd insist upon running back to Neptune at the first opportunity. And Veronica didn't want that to happen.

In truth, she knew Mac so well that she could probably have their entire conversation in her own head, anyway. Mac would listen carefully, then tell Veronica that she'd support her no matter what her decision. Mac had never liked trying to make up other people's minds for them (which of course was exactly the opposite of Veronica.)

In the end, she was left to figure it out on her own. If she were being honest with herself, she'd admit that that was probably for the best, because Veronica Mars had always liked to make her own decisions.

She was startled when she realized that somehow she'd managed this one, too.

Veronica finished her tea, glanced at the clock, and saw that it wasn't even lunchtime. She pulled out her phone, hit speed dial, and waited for him to pick up.

"Can you come get me?" she asked.

It was barely fifteen minutes later when she heard Logan's knock on her door. Fifteen minutes in which she might have conjured up everything that could go wrong and reconsidered. But Veronica Mars had made a decision, and fear would not rule her life.

As she opened the door, she gave just a fleeting thought to how many times she had opened that very same door to Logan Echolls. And to how many significant conversations the two of them had had across that very same doorway. So she supposed that it was as fitting a place as any for such a life-changing moment.

He stood there looking as nervous as she'd ever seen him, and so quickly, to put him out of his misery and before she could change her mind, Veronica said, "Okay, I'll marry you."


	4. Part I - Chapter 4

Part I - Chapter 4

Logan had feared the worst when Veronica called that morning to say she wouldn't be coming to the beach house, like she had every day for weeks now. She'd given him a million reasons why she preferred to stay home. Every reason, in fact, except the real one.

But there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it. He'd just have to hope that he'd been persuasive enough. That Veronica would choose to be with him and that he'd have one more chance to make it work. To make _them_ work. He knew it would probably be his _last_ chance.

The real problem was that he'd asked her to _marry_ him, and Logan knew that Veronica viewed marriage the way that most people looked at a root canal: as something to be avoided at all costs. It wasn't surprising that she felt that way after twenty-three years of up-close-and-personal looks at _Marriage: Neptune Style._

The lessons had begun at home, with her own parents. She'd once thought their little family was perfect, but she'd found out in the most painful way that things were very often not what they seemed. And then of course there were _his_ parents - the suicide and the philandering murderer.

Yup, in the parents sweepstakes, between the two of them, they could count one murdering, child abusing rapist, one suicide, two alcoholics, two adulterers, one runaway mom - and one decent man. Logan sighed. He knew that based on genetics alone, the odds were definitely not in their favor.

And as if the family history weren't enough, there were all those cheating spouses that were still the bread and butter of a business like Mars Investigations. Veronica had probably taken enough "money shots" to last her a lifetime.

It had all come together in Veronica's head to produce a distaste for the institution of marriage that had become fixed at an early age, and reinforced again and again by her life experiences.

Logan expected that he should probably feel the same way, but somehow he just didn't. On the contrary. He would swallow any fear, shove aside any doubt, if it meant that he could be with Veronica.

He didn't know what kind fate had brought into his life the one person who was able to draw from him the tenderest of feelings and the deepest of emotions, but he was grateful every day. Logan never doubted that the thing that had kept him from falling off the edge more than once was not that Veronica might love him, but that _he_ loved_Veronica_.

And now he waited to see if fate would be kind to him once again.

When Veronica called back at 11 that same morning, asking to be picked up, he knew that she'd probably made a decision, and that he was just minutes away from either joy or despair. By the time he got to her apartment he was as nervous as a cat and twice as jumpy.

So he could scarcely believe it when she opened the door and said without preamble, "Okay. I'll marry you."

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"But I have a few conditions," she continued after he'd gotten over the shock and they'd ensconced themselves on the couch in the Mars living room.

_Conditions? She could have his right nut in a trophy case if that was what it would take._

"I get my own room."

"Of course," he said. "That was a given. You'll have your own bathroom, too."

Okay, Veronica thought, privacy issues taken care of.

"And we don't make a big deal about a wedding. In fact, I'd like to keep it as brief as possible."

"Done," he said. "Do you want to have Wallace and Mac there?"

That took a moment of thought. "They're both out of town, so no, I guess not. I'll...tell them after."

He nodded. "Okay. Anything else?"

Her mouth twisted into a grimace, and she looked at him out of the corner of her eyes.

"I suppose you could invite Dick." Although, now that she thought of it, she hadn't seen Dick since graduation.

Logan laughed. "You're in luck, _Ronnie._" She rolled her eyes at the despised nickname.

"Dick's mom was so amazed that he actually graduated from Hearst, that she made good on a promise to him that he could travel around Europe for six months on his step-father's dime. He won't be back until Christmas."

"Which step-father is this?" she asked. "Fourth or fifth?"

"Who the hell knows?" Logan replied, smirking. "Dick certainly doesn't give a crap."

They both laughed.

"Okay, then," he said. "I guess it'll just be you, me, your dad...and maybe Cliff?" She nodded. "Any final requests?"

"Oh, and no rings," she added casually.

"No," Logan said.

"No...what?"

"Ixnay on the no rings. We're having rings. You can have the world's shortest wedding, you can wear anything you want, I don't give a fuck. But I want rings. I want you to have a ring."

Veronica was taken aback. "And what about you? Will you want a ring."

"As long as you put it on my finger."

Veronica was silent for a moment. "Logan, I thought that this was supposed to be a 'marriage in name only'? One we could dissolve? Would probably dissolve?"

Logan shifted uncomfortably, afraid to give too much away, and shrugged.

"I won't go back on my word, Veronica. After the baby's born, you can have a divorce...if you want it. But we aren't strangers, we aren't indifferent to each other, we're still you and me, and I want rings." On this point he was adamant.

It was the only thing he'd asked for, she realized. "Okay," she said finally. "But nothing too grand."

Logan smiled. "Nothing too grand," he agreed.

At this point in the proceedings, after having made such a momentous decision, most couples would probably have kissed. Or at least embraced. But not this couple, despite the fact that he loved her desperately, and she very likely loved him in return. No, no kisses or hugs for them.

Instead she held out her hand to him, and he took it and shook it solemnly.

"So, Mars," he asked with a smirk, "don't you think we should maybe have spit on our palms before we shook? You know, to make it all official-like?"

Veronica laughed in spite of herself, rolling her eyes in exasperation. "I don't really think that will be necessary."

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When they told him, Keith Mars was somewhat surprised at this sudden about-face, but he was hardly in a position to complain. His daughter, who was pregnant, was marrying the father of her baby, a man she'd known almost half her life. It wasn't ideal, but Keith would take what he could get.

They'd asked Cliff to drop by the Mars apartment so they could tell him about their plans. When he heard about the upcoming wedding, Cliff was astonished.

"You know, kid," he said to Logan as he shook his hand, "somehow you never cease to amaze me," which brought an answering smirk from the groom-to-be.

A discussion then ensued about the logistics of a wedding in which one of the parties was the still-notorious Logan Echolls. Despite his years of attempting to avoid the spotlight, Logan was still fodder for the tabloids, and if the paparazzi smelled anything like a wedding in the wind, they'd be all over him. And Veronica.

California law required that they both appear at the county clerk's office to apply for the marriage license. That was the sticking point. The two of them standing in a long line at the marriage license window at the Balboa County offices would be like sending up red flags to the hungry paps. Before they ever reached the head of that line, they'd have had their entire lives laid bare for public consumption.

Logan wasn't going to stand for it.

So Cliff called in a few favors. It took only a phone call to his friend, the Balboa County Clerk, who agreed that Logan and Veronica would be allowed into his private office where he'd personally process their marriage license application. And since California law required neither blood tests nor a waiting period, they could then slip upstairs to the chambers of another friend of Cliff's, a judge whose name Logan was familiar with.

"Jeff Bloom? Isn't he the judge who granted me bail when I was arrested for the murder of that biker?" He'd been so grateful at the time that he was unlikely to forget the name of his savior.

"The very same," Cliff confirmed. "But the favor ledger has tilted in my direction lately, so he's agreed to marry you on Friday afternoon."

"Friday afternoon?" Veronica gulped. "Th...this Friday?"

"That gives us two days." Logan said, poking her in the ribs playfully. "Plenty of time."

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"Plenty of time," Veronica grumbled to herself two days later, as she pulled the new dress over her shoulders. The dress that she'd had only one day to shop for. Her wedding dress. She shook her head, still trying to process the idea that in a couple of hours she'd be married. Married to Logan Echolls.

She probably had it all backwards. The having a baby part, that's what was supposed to be harder to accept, she thought, rubbing a protective hand over her still-flat abdomen. But she'd somehow, over the last couple of months, gotten used to that idea.

But getting married? To Logan? It seemed...impossible. She forced herself to remember that theirs would be a short-lived union. That they were only doing it because of the child she was carrying. That it didn't really mean anything.

But she wasn't sure she really believed that.

Veronica looked at her reflection in the mirror and wondered why she'd even bothered to buy the dress. It wasn't a gown, of course. That would have been ridiculous, and she hadn't even considered it. In fact, she knew if she'd told Logan that they were getting married in jeans and t-shirts, he'd have been fine with it

But somehow...she hadn't wanted to. Veronica Mars didn't believe in the institution of marriage, had declared often that she was never getting married...but she still wanted to look nice for her wedding.

Veronica sighed in frustration. Sometimes she hated that girly part of herself.

She heard a knock on the door then, quickly followed by Logan's voice. "You about ready, Veronica?"

Only with difficulty did Veronica stop herself from replying, "As I'll ever be."

When she saw Logan, she was grateful for every second she'd put into her appearance. He rarely wore anything but casual clothes, but today Logan was dressed in a dark gray suit that enhanced the long lines of his body and the breadth of his shoulders. He'd obviously gotten a haircut, and shaved the scruff that sometimes adorned his face.

Today, Logan Echolls looked exactly like the scion of Hollywood royalty that he was. It wasn't that Veronica had ever denied, even to herself, that the man she was about to marry was handsome and sexy. It was that most of the time she simply didn't think about it.

Today, she couldn't seem to _stop_ thinking about it.

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The carefully co-ordinated plan worked like a dream. An employee in the county clerk's office met them in the basement garage and whisked them up to the clerk's private office, where, after hands were shaken all around, their license application was processed and signed by the clerk.

A quick elevator ride brought them upstairs to the somewhat cramped chambers of Judge Jeffrey Bloom, who pocketed the license and suggested they get on with it.

Before Veronica could catch her breath, she and Logan were standing in front of the judge, in a room that reminded her eerily of the principal's office at Neptune High, and she was reciting wedding vows that she knew with a little twinge of guilt she had no intention of keeping.

When the time came for the exchange of rings, Logan pulled out two wide, flat platinum bands. His was plain, but hers was surrounded by tiny diamond chips, the gem weight totaling probably less than a carat. Not grand at all.

Her dad took a few pictures and then it was all over. They'd walked in with a marriage license, and walked out with a marriage certificate. Veronica simply couldn't take it all in.

Keith took them all out to dinner at Mama Leone's, since Veronica's nausea had finally subsided and she was able to enjoy her favorite foods again. They ran from the parking lot into the restaurant to avoid a soaking from the rain that was once again turning their corner of the world into a sodden mess. Veronica was beginning to think that the rain had become like the soundtrack to their lives.

It was a small wedding celebration, but surprisingly cheerful. As Veronica sat there eating her lasagna, anticipating the tiramisu that she knew was coming later, she wondered what the hell was wrong with her.

She'd gotten married, that was true, but the only tangible items she'd acquired that day were the marriage certificate, now folded up in Logan's pocket, and the platinum band currently sitting on the third finger of her left hand. A piece of paper and a piece of metal. They shouldn't make her feel so different.

But somehow they did.

She couldn't seem to take her eyes off the ring, twisting and turning it around her finger as though she couldn't get used to the feel of it. To the weight of it. Logan watched her for a moment and then leaned over and whispered in her ear. "You should look inside it."

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It was surprisingly easy for Logan and Veronica to get used to living together. They'd known each other for so long that there were very few surprises. And Veronica had been spending so much time at Logan's recently that they'd gotten comfortable again with each other's company.

Veronica had decided to wait until the holidays to tell Mac and Wallace about the baby...and about Logan. She knew it was a peculiar idea, but somehow it felt like everything would feel less strange if she could keep the outside world at bay for as long as possible.

Her dad came to visit often, of course, and was asked his opinion about the nursery they were setting up in the third bedroom. It took a few visits for Keith to realize that Veronica and Logan had separate bedrooms. He was puzzled, but he didn't say anything, preferring to let them work it out themselves.

In all other ways, though, they acted like the typical young couple about to have their first child. They debated baby names and picked colors for the nursery (rejecting with a smirk Keith's suggested baseball-themed room).

They were shopping for baby furniture, in fact, at the new mall on the outskirts of Neptune when they ran into someone in the food court who topped both of their "person I'd least like to run into" lists. There wasn't even a close second.

Predictably, she'd spotted Logan first, as he was disposing of the remains of their lunch, and followed him back to their table. Her smile was wide when she tapped him on the shoulder and coyly exclaimed, "Logan Echolls! I certainly never thought I'd see you in such an _ordinary_ place."

But that smile dimmed a bit when she recognized his companion. "Veronica. Well, no wonder you're slumming it, Logan," she said with a sniff. She couldn't imagine why they were sitting together. She had it on good authority that they'd broken up for good several months ago.

"Madison," Logan acknowledged briefly as he sat down. Veronica said nothing at all, as Logan reached under the table and gently squeezed her knee.

Madison quickly tried to regroup. "I'm having some people over tonight," she simpered. "Why don't you join us? We can always use one more good-looking man around," she added, pointedly excluding Veronica from the invitation.

"I'm busy tonight, Madison," Logan said, and when he saw her mouth open again, he added very deliberately, "I'm busy every night." He pulled Veronica up then. "Let's go," he said.

What the hell, Madison thought, as they passed her without further acknowledgement. And then her trained eye caught sight of the glint of something on Veronica's finger. Her mouth dropped open in shock. She tried a quick peek at Logan's left hand, and she almost thought she saw a ring there, too.

But then she hastily dismissed the thought, since it was impossible for Logan Echolls to have married Veronica Mars without her hearing about it...No! Scratch that! It was impossible for Logan Echolls to have married Veronica Mars _at all._ She knew she'd been mistaken and she wasn't about to look the fool by asking any of their mutual acquaintances if it was true. Why bother when she knew it couldn't be?

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Veronica and Logan hastily exited the mall and were halfway home before the absurdity of it all hit them. Veronica suddenly glanced at Logan out of the corner of her eye, quirked a little smile, and said, "If she only knew!"

Logan grinned then, and soon they were both laughing so hard that Logan had to pull over to the side of the road because his body was shaking with mirth. And just like that, the power that Madison Sinclair had had over them, the power to interfere in their lives and to tear them apart, simply vanished.

Painting the nursery had been on the agenda for the afternoon, so when they got home they changed into their oldest clothes. Veronica had told him they had plenty of time for painting and could put it off, but Logan was determined to get it done while she was still agile enough to help him.

"I need your vertically-challenged self to assist with the lowest parts of the wall," he explained with a grin.

"Very amusing, Echolls," she shot back quickly. "It's been ages since I've heard a new 'short ' joke."

Logan just chuckled as he opened the can of paint and gathered together the brushes, rollers and other paraphernalia they'd need for the job.

"So, Logan," Veronica's eyes narrowed as she scrutinized the equipment. "Have you ever painted a room before?"

"Of course," he said, looking bored.

She quirked a disbelieving eyebrow, and he looked a little chagrined.

"Well, okay, Nancy Drew, you got me. Maybe I haven't so much painted one myself as watched it being done," he admitted.

"Watched like...a million years ago when you still lived with...your parents?" Veronica suddenly wished she hadn't started that line of questioning.

"Uh, no." Logan didn't seem at all perturbed by the allusion to Lynn and Aaron Echolls. "It wasn't actually, um, in person."

"Not in person?" Veronica was puzzled, but then her eyes widened as she finally caught on. "Logan Echolls, do you mean to tell me that you bought all the stuff to paint this room and you've only ever watched people painting on TV?"

"Veronica, those DIY shows are great!" She'd certainly seen him watch them by the hour. "They explain it all, step by step. And also," he looked a little sheepish, "well, I wasn't absolutely sure I had everything covered, so I kind of looked it up on the internet."

"The internet. The DIY shows and the internet." She shook her head at him. "Good thing I've got lots of experience with room painting."

Veronica smiled at him and wondered where this gentle teasing tone had come from. The chastising voice when she thought he might have wasted money on the materials. The admonishment that he might be in over his head.

Her hand stilled as she was mixing the paint with a wooden stick. Dear god, she thought, I sound just like...a wife!

Surprisingly, the painting had been going smoothly, although Logan, who had to paint all the sections of the walls that were over his head, ended up with an unsurprising amount of paint on his face. Veronica had been moving around the lower parts of the walls with practiced agility, when she stopped to take a break, caught sight of Logan, and burst into laughter.

"What?" he said, a puzzled expression on his face.

"Your face," she could hardly get it out, she was laughing so hard.

Logan glanced at the window, where the light reflected his image just enough for him to see himself covered in pale yellow paint.

He put down his brush and squatted in front of Veronica, grinning. "Don't you know this is the new look? I wouldn't want you to miss out." And with that, he swiped some paint off his face and deposited it on her nose.

Her smile became focused on him then, and all she could see were his eyes and his smile. He was Logan, and she'd known him for half her life. He was the father of this child she'd decided to keep and to love. And he was her husband, whom she'd married in a five-minute ceremony only a month ago.

He was covered in yellow paint, and he had a silly grin on his face, and suddenly a hot, sweet bolt of desire shot through Veronica that was so fierce that it almost took her breath away. Desire that she hadn't let herself feel in months.

She rose abruptly on shaky legs and quickly left the room.

The smile disappeared from Logan's face. "Veronica...?"

"Think I've had enough painting for today, Logan," she called back to him as she hurried to her room, ran into her bathroom, shut the door behind her, and sat down on the lid of the toilet, shaking.

She heard Logan knocking at her bedroom door.

"Are you all right, Veronica?" he wanted to know.

She could hear the concern in his voice.

"Don't worry," she called out to him. "Just a crazy pregnancy...thing. I'm fine. Why don't we finish up the painting tomorrow?"

"Okay." He paused. "You're sure you don't need me to come in there?"

Oh, dear god, she didn't know what she might do if he came into the room just then.

"Nope, I'm good. Just peachy. Or I will be in a little while."

But she knew she wouldn't be, because suddenly, everything had changed. The genie was out of the bottle. She'd felt the desire and she couldn't hide from herself any longer just how desperately she wanted him. She wondered how long she could hide it from him.

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They finished painting the nursery a few days later, but Veronica wanted to wait until they found out the baby's sex before they started decorating, and that would happen at her next appointment. Veronica teased Logan relentlessly, because he was so convinced they were having a girl. And he teased her in return about the small convex bump that was rapidly replacing Veronica's once-flat abdomen.

Today, they'd gotten filthy cleaning out an unused storage area, and she'd retreated to her bathroom to take a quick shower. As she dried herself with a towel, she studied her reflection in the mirror, scrutinizing her changing body and wondering how much longer she'd be able to wear regular clothes, even loose-fitting ones.

She saw that it was raining again, and as she slipped on her robe, she watched the storm batter against the windows, and heard it beating on the red-tiled roof. She closed her eyes and remembered that exact same sound from that morning in early June. The sound of the rain on the roof, and Logan's naked body stretched out next to her.

Oh, god! She couldn't seem to stop thinking about it. Logan holding her. Logan kissing her. Logan inside her. Her mouth was dry and her breathing shallow, and she knew that the wetness between her thighs wasn't from her shower.

This has to stop!

For a split second, she was afraid she'd actually screamed that out loud. But no, Logan hadn't come running to see what was wrong.

But he _was_ knocking on her door and asking what she'd like for dinner. "Do you want to go for another episode of 'Adventures in Cooking with Logan and Veronica'," he asked, poking his head around the corner of the door, "or do you want to just order in? We can go out if you like, but it's raining pretty fiercely."

He was right there, she thought, _right there, _his hair wet from his own shower, the scent of his sandalwood soap filling her nostrils, and she suddenly had to sit down.

"Hey, are you okay?" He came into the room and crouched down in front of her, a look of concern on his face. "I knew we shouldn't have done all that in one day."

"No, Logan, it's fine. I'm fine." She reached up as if to stroke his cheek, and then quickly dropped her hand. But his eyes said he'd seen it, and had seen the expression on her face, and that he wanted her to touch him. She heard his breath catch.

"Let's order in some Chinese," Veronica said brightly, deliberately breaking the mood that had quickly, and dangerously, enveloped them. "Extra egg rolls for me!" she reminded him as he grabbed his phone to call.

When the food came, they threw on their most comfortable sweats and had a picnic in front of the gas fireplace, which they turned on in deference to the chill in the air brought on by the relentless rain.

Veronica licked her lips as she finished her fourth egg roll and started in on the spicy chicken.

"You and Chinese food!" Logan smiled, with a faraway look in his eye. "Courtyard at Neptune High."

"Oh, god," said Veronica. "That seems like a million years ago. Lilly...and Duncan."

"Yeah," Logan said softly, his eyes wistful. "But we still have you and me," he reminded her, his smile tender.

She could hardly stand it when he looked at her like that, she thought. Did he have any idea what it did to her?

"And pretty soon we'll have junior." She could hear the wonder in his voice.

"Junior? I thought you were convinced that this baby was a girl," she teased.

"And so I am. I was referring to Junior Veronica." He seemed to reconsider. "Although that is a scary thought."

One of the throw pillows from the couch sailed towards his head.

"You throw like a girl, Veronica," he said, catching it easily.

"Um, duh!" She waved her hand across her body, stopping for emphasis on her swelling abdomen.

And there they were again, staring at each other, caught in the spell.

Veronica yawned suddenly, and Logan chuckled. "Come on, mommy-to-be, you need your beauty sleep," he said as he pulled her up and pushed her towards her room.

"But what about all this?" She gestured toward the mess their picnic had made.

"Think I can handle it," he said drily.

Veronica was grateful. She was exhausted, not only from the baby that was sapping her strength, and the non-stop nesting they'd been doing at the beach house, but from the constant struggle to contain the upsurge of desire that kept trying to spill out of her.

She brushed her teeth quickly, then slipped into sleep shorts and a tank top and slid under the covers, falling asleep almost immediately to the sound of the rain still pouring outside.

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At first, Veronica didn't know what had startled her awake, but when she heard the crack of thunder, she knew she must have been awoken by the storm. She lay back down, but sleep didn't come quickly as it had earlier. Instead, her mind wandered to where it almost always did these days, to the room down the hall and the man sleeping there.

_This is crazy,_ she thought. _I'm twenty-three years old, and I'm lusting after my own husband. _

Trouble was, she knew very well that it wasn't just lust. With Logan, it was never "just" any one thing. It was so many different emotions all tangled up together that she didn't know where one ended and the next began.

Veronica gave up trying to sleep. She sat up, turned on the light, and tried unsuccessfully to think about anything but her yearning heart.

Logan had been so good to her. He hadn't put even the slightest pressure on her to give anything more of herself than they'd agreed on. He'd taken care of her and allowed her to do anything she wanted with respect to the baby.

Veronica looked down at her fingers, twisting and turning her wedding band. Really, she thought, insisting on the wedding rings was the only demand he'd made at all.

And that was when she suddenly remembered. The restaurant on their wedding day. Logan had been watching her twist her ring, and he'd leaned over and whispered that she should look inside. But she never had.

_How could I have forgotten?_

Now that she'd remembered, she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep until she saw whatever it was that was inside her ring. Whatever it was that Logan had put there. She was suddenly desperate to know, and she pulled and tugged at the ring, trying to take it off.

But her hands had swollen a little with her pregnancy, and it was proving difficult to remove the ring from her finger. The more she tried, the more it resisted, and she was reaching previously unknown levels of frustration when her eye fell on her bathroom door and she had to laugh at herself for being such a chucklehead.

_What the hell is wrong with you, Veronica? Has pregnancy addled your brain?_

She slipped out of bed and into the bathroom where the application of a little liquid soap provided just enough lubrication so that the ring slipped easily off her finger. She washed it carefully to remove the soap residue and climbed back into bed with it clutched in her palm.

She held the ring delicately between her thumb and forefinger, twisting it under the light from the lamp on her bedside table, and saw for the first time what Logan had had inscribed inside her ring. Veronica was a small woman and the ring was correspondingly tiny, so the inscription filled its entire interior circumference.

_V.M + L.E. = Inevitable_

Their own personal equation. The mathematical expression of their unbreakable bond. This was what he'd been trying to tell her. Her breath caught, and she could hear the hammering of her heart.

Before she could stop to consider what she was doing, Veronica had placed the ring on the table, and was out of bed, down the hall, and standing outside Logan's bedroom. When she opened the door, she was surprised to see Logan, who usually slept like the dead, sit up abruptly.

"What's wrong, Veronica?" he asked, instantly alert, his voice full of concern.

"Nothing, Logan," she responded quickly, reassuring him. "Nothing at all."

She stepped a little further into the room and added tentatively, "Well, maybe one thing. Yeah, one thing."

She could see Logan's look of bewilderment as she moved closer to the bed, and watched as it turned to confusion when she sat down on the edge. But when she reached up and lightly stroked his cheek, when she rubbed her thumb softly across his lower lip, closing her eyes at the feel of his skin, before finally bending down to kiss him, he understood her very well.

"Veronica," he breathed, kissing her back with desperate need. He could hardly believe that she was really there with him, that this wasn't some dream born of fantasy and desire.

She slipped under the covers, stretching herself against his solid form, and immediately felt the sweet relief of his body pressed next to her own. Oh, how she'd missed him! How had she managed to live with him for all these weeks without touching him? Without feeling his touch in return? She was tired of being afraid of how much he made her feel.

"Oh, god, Veronica. I want you so much, but I promised you we wouldn't have to be together...like this," he murmured hesitantly, his voice filled with longing.

She reached up and stroked his face again, smiling down at him. "I don't know how I've held out for this long, Logan, when every night I lie in that bed and I know that you're here next door, and I just...just..." How could she possibly tell him of the hours she'd tossed and turned, feverishly trying to think of anything but him, while her traitorous body tingled with desire?

They undressed each other hastily, then, and Logan pulled her to him once again. A soft moan escaped Veronica's lips as she felt his large body wrap around her own, felt the soft touch of his skin all along the length of her.

They kissed with wild abandon, his large hands caressing her, memorizing the changes to her body since he'd last been allowed to touch her like this. He felt the gentle swell of her abdomen and hesitated.

"Veronica," he breathed, forcing himself to ask one last time. "I love you so damned much and I want this more than anything. But I want you to be sure. Are you sure?" His eyes begged her to be certain. Certain that she could make love to him tonight, and have no regrets tomorrow.

"I want this, too," she said softly, looking at him as though the world began and ended in the warmth of his eyes.

Her hand slipped downward, stroking him, and she laughed giddily when he moaned, ecstatic that she could bring him such pleasure.

He backed up towards the headboard and pulled her on top of him so that she was straddling him. "I don't want to hurt you," he said, again stroking the swell of her belly. His words were low and soft, but she could hear the barely suppressed desire in the timbre of his voice.

"You won't hurt me, Logan. I want you. Please," she moaned, "please."

Her body already thrumming with need, Veronica closed her eyes as he slowly filled her. They both groaned with relief at how perfect this connection between them felt, just as it always had.

She began to move and roll her hips almost immediately, unable to stop the instinctive rise and fall of her body. It had been too long and she wanted him too much, and suddenly everything in her was exploding with pleasure.

"I love you," she said over and over, trembling, blissful.

Logan heard her words, felt her release, and the last ounce of his control disappeared as he poured himself into her.

She collapsed against him, exhausted, and nestled her head on his shoulder. As their breathing slowed, they pulled each other close, their arms wrapping around one another, content.

His hand stroked up and down her side, a gesture of possessiveness, of protectiveness. After a while, he broke the silence between them, and whispered a question in her ear. "Do you, Veronica? Do you love me?"

Veronica sighed against his neck, "Yes," she said. "So much that it scares me."

He could hear the rain battering against the windowpanes again, and he remembered another rainy night.

"And will you still be here when I wake up in the morning?"

"I'm not going anywhere," she said sleepily, just before she drifted off.

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Logan had never imagined that he could be this happy. Nothing in his life had led him to believe that humans were even capable of this degree of contentment. And if he had known it, had heard that it was possible for 99.9% of people to feel so much joy, he would have bet every cent of his very considerable fortune that Logan Echolls would be left languishing down in the .1.

So it was not so strange that he had to keep pinching himself to be certain that this was really his life. That Veronica had actually told him that she loved him, that she was truly his wife and was carrying his child. And that she was in his bed every night.

And not only at night.

Sometimes, when they were in the middle of cooking or working on the house, or maybe when they'd just come back from a walk, or were eating breakfast (or lunch or dinner), Veronica would look at Logan in just that certain way, and he would smirk, knowing exactly what was on her mind. And she would shriek when he scooped her up in his arms or threw her over his shoulder.

But by the time they got to the bedroom, she'd be kissing him frantically and pulling at his clothing and making soft little moans in the back of her throat. Sometimes it would be hours before they emerged. Usually, it was to satisfy Veronica's _other_ voracious appetite, which had only increased now that she was pregnant.

Such happiness couldn't possibly last, he sometimes thought, ever the fatalist. So while Veronica remained oblivious to everything except the blissful "now," Logan couldn't help looking over his shoulder, waiting for that one thing, that one change in circumstance that would send his happy life crashing down around him.


	5. Part I - Chapter 5

Part I - Chapter 5

"You know," Logan said to Veronica as they were lying in bed on the third night after she'd moved into his bedroom, "we've never had a honeymoon."

"Yeah, well I think we kind of skipped that step," she replied. "In fact, we skipped a _lot _of the usual steps. Or maybe did them all backwards." She smirked at him. "Upside down?"

"Well, why don't we go back in this _Game of Life _and see if we can't stop on the square that says,'Take a Honeymoon.'"

Veronica turned on her side and looked him directly in the eye. "You're serious."

"As a heart attack." He quirked an eyebrow. "Hmmm. Perhaps not the best analogy. Nevertheless, I think we owe ourselves a little vacation."

Veronica was reluctant. "I don't know, Logan. I have my appointment with Dr. Patel next week and then we're going to be really busy."

"All the more reason to go now. Your fatigue and nausea are gone, and you're still not too, um, big," he winked at her and she looked affronted, "so this is probably the best time to go."

"Well," she said uncertainly, "where do you propose we go? I'm not exactly in shape for lying by the pool at some resort. Some women might like to see themselves pregnant and in a bikini, but that group would not include me."

Logan kissed the tip of her nose. "You know you always look beautiful to me." Veronica just sniffed.

He thought a moment. "What if we went up to San Francisco. We could go on to Napa, visit some wineries, restock the cellars."

"Logan, you don't have wine cellars."

"True, true," he grinned, "but I could maybe have some built."

He looked at her uncertainly. "And then maybe...while we're in the area...we could even visit Mac."

Veronica was silent, but he could almost see the wheels turning in her head. Like Logan, she'd been content to stay wrapped in their cocoon, alone except for frequent visits from Keith. Other than Cliff, no one else knew, so no one expected anything from them.

It wasn't just seeing Mac, talking to Mac. It was the idea of opening up their world, of letting other people in. Logan knew they'd have to do it eventually, and it just felt like it would be easier if they started with a friend, one who'd be supportive. Besides, he knew Veronica missed Mac. He knew she missed having another woman to talk to.

Veronica was still hesitant. "But do you think...it's okay for me to travel right now?"

"Veronica, it's a very short flight from San Diego to San Francisco. Maybe ninety minutes. And we'll plan just a long weekend, so you'll be back in plenty of time for your next appointment."

When she still looked unconvinced, he made a further suggestion. "You could check with Dr. Patel, see if she thinks it's safe for you to travel."

An hour later, Veronica had received the okay from her doctor. Logan bought tickets and made reservations for the upcoming weekend, but Veronica was starting to look a little panicked.

"I guess I'd better call Mac, let her know that I'm...that we're...coming. Uh...what do you think I should say to her?"

"Why don't you just tell her that you have a little surprise for her?" Logan suggested, smirking.

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Their flight to San Francisco left that Friday morning at 9 a.m., and by noon they were ensconced in their suite at The Four Seasons.

Veronica was predictably appalled at the size of their room.

"Do we really need all this space, Logan? It seems like such a waste. I know this hotel is ridiculously expensive anyway, and we could've gotten along just fine in a regular room. Maybe we can get them to change..."

"Veronica, stop!" Logan broke in on her rambling monologue. "I know you hate the idea of extravagance for its own sake, but what the hell is wrong with being comfortable? Considering how much money I've got," she looked like she was about to interrupt, but he just ignored her and continued. "Considering how fucking _rich_ I am, we live very quietly. And goddammit! This is supposed to be our honeymoon, even if it is only four days long."

He grabbed her suddenly and pulled her into his arms, nuzzling her neck. "And since it _is_ our honeymoon, just think of all the different places there are in this suite that we could practice, um, _honeymooning."_

She giggled and batted at him ineffectually, trying to push him away.

"For instance," he continued in that husky tone that always made her shiver, "we could try out the bedroom right now. See if we could recommend it to other honeymooners. You know, these fancy hotels live and die by the recommendations of their guests."

All the time he was talking he was walking her backwards into the bedroom.

"Logan," she tried a feeble protest. "I've never been to San Francisco. I want to see the city, not just the inside of this suite."

"Later, Bobcat," he said, picking her up in his arms and carrying her into the bedroom. "First things first."

By five o'clock that afternoon, they were walking around Ghirardelli Square like any other tourists, looking exactly like the honeymooners they were. Veronica had already discovered the 'make your own sundae' section in the Ghirardelli chocolate shop, and built herself such an enormous concoction that Logan had been sure she couldn't possibly finish it. But of course she had.

"What time are we meeting Mac?" he asked.

"Seven o'clock. She said that would give her plenty of time to change out of her work clothes and get to the pub."

"And she doesn't know I'm with you?"

"Nope. You suggested surprising her and that's what we're gonna do."

"So...seven o'clock," Logan said, glancing at his watch and waggling his brows. "I think that might give us just enough time to go back to the hotel for a quickie."

Veronica laughed and poked him in the ribs. "In your dreams, buddy. Let's walk around some more and maybe get to the pub a little early."

By six o'clock, Veronica was getting tired and Logan found them a taxi. As they sat in the back of the cab, he noticed that she seemed to be getting more and more nervous with each passing moment.

"Veronica, it's just Mac. She's one of your closest friends. What's bugging you?"

"I don't know, Logan, up till now it's felt so good to be just...just you and me. And now...it's going to be, I don't know, different somehow." Veronica had let herself forget the outside world for a little while, and now she was uncharacteristically anxious about letting it in.

"Here's what won't be different, Bobcat," he whispered softly. "I'll still love you and you'll still love me. That's never going to change."

"You promise?" Her voice was uncertain.

"I think I already did that back in the judge's office, but I'll do it again. I promise, Veronica."

They'd arrived early as planned and were sitting at a table they'd been lucky enough to find near the back of the crowded pub when Mac entered shortly after seven. Veronica was facing the door and saw her immediately, and a huge grin lit her face.

"Mac!" She waved to her. "Over here!"

Neither Mac nor Veronica had ever considered hugging to be necessary each time they happened to meet. A quick 'hey' or even a wave would often do. But this was the longest they'd gone without seeing each other in almost six years, and a spontaneous hug felt right to them both.

So between the hugging and the "How are yous," and the "You look greats," it was understandable that it took Mac some time to realize that Veronica was not alone. In fact, it wasn't until Logan stood up and pulled out a chair for her that Mac noticed his presence.

"Logan! What are you...? I don't understand." Mac looked questioningly at Veronica, sure that if something as momentous as a reunion between Veronica and Logan had occurred, she would have been the first to know. Hadn't she, after all, been the one to receive Logan's desperate phone call when Veronica refused to talk to him?

So Mac sat and waited, expecting some simple explanation. They'd decided to travel together. Or maybe Logan was living in San Francisco, too. She brightened, hoping that was the answer. She wouldn't mind having an old friend living in the city.

"Uh, Mac." Veronica stopped short, frustrated as to where...how...to begin. Finally, she simply held up her left hand and wiggled her fingers in front of Mac's face. And waited.

"Jazz hands?" Mac was perplexed. "Or jazz _hand_, _single? _What does that have to do with anything?"

Veronica groaned and lowered her head into her hands, stymied. She simply couldn't find the words to explain, and it appeared that her pantomime wasn't working, either.

Logan shook his head, chuckling, and picked up Veronica's left hand, put it on the table next to his own, and waggled the index finger of his right hand between the two rings that adorned those hands.

Back and forth, back and forth. Mac's eyes followed Logan's finger, mesmerized. Her mind refused to accept what her eyes were seeing.

Finally, she looked up at the two of them, grinning at her like a pair of fools, nodding their heads at her look of disbelief.

"Oh. My. God. _Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod!_ What? When? Why wasn't I invited?" She narrowed her eyes at the pair of them. "What the _hell_ is going on?"

"Um, well, surprise number two." Veronica said, removing her jacket so that Mac could see the gentle but clearly visible swelling of her body.

"Holy fucking shit!" Mac clearly needed a moment to process it all.

But soon her face lit with an enormous grin, and she jumped up, pulling Veronica into an even fiercer hug than the one she'd given her just minutes before. And then she moved on to Logan.

"But...but why didn't you tell me?" She was baffled.

Logan and Veronica looked at each other, wondering how to explain the emotional journey they'd taken over the past few months. Wondering where to begin.

Logan tried to make her understand. "I guess it just took us a while to figure it all out," he said. "Veronica may have taken just a little bit of convincing," he added, smirking.

"Shocking," Mac grinned.

"Yeah, he finally sold me on the idea by promising me a pony, but I still haven't seen it yet," she teased.

"How about I buy one for our daughter instead?" he asked.

"You already know you're having a girl?" Mac asked.

"Nope. That's just Logan being his jackass self. He's already bought a huge pink teddy bear. We find out next week using the wonders of _science_," she smirked at him, "as opposed to Logan's _intuition._"

"What are you going to do if it's a boy, Logan?" Mac wanted to know.

_"Inconceivable!" _he said with a wink.

"Ya know, I don't think that answer actually works this time," Mac said with a laugh.

"So," she continued, "am I the last to know?"

"You're the _first_ to know. Well, outside of my dad and Cliff. They were at the wedding."

"Which was at...?"

"Judge's chambers, county office building."

"But...how did you keep it out of the papers?" This was directed at Logan.

"Well, that's kind of why it was so low key, Mac. I know Veronica, both of us, really, would have loved for you to be there, but..."

"I understand. But now you're going to tell me all about it, every last detail, and you're not going to leave anything out."

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They spent hours over drinks and dinner regaling Mac with tales of their tortuous road to married bliss. Logan had pictures of the wedding on his phone, and he uploaded them to Mac's phone after extracting her promise to exercise discretion in who she showed them to.

"No problem," Mac said. "As of right now, it's just our little secret. I'm not telling anyone."

They invited her to come with them to Napa the next day, but she was having no part of "horning in" on their honeymoon, as she put it. So they promised to spend the day with her on Sunday, and then Logan bundled Mac into a cab, despite her protest that she'd be just fine taking BART.

"I don't think so, Mac," he said. "I think you may have done a little too much celebrating."

"Well," she explained, "I had to drink Veronica's share, too, since she's on the mommy wagon."

Veronica cringed. "Mac, I promise that we'll spend the whole day with you on Sunday as long as the words 'mommy wagon' never, ever again cross your lips."

"Scout's honor," she yelled through the opened widow as the cab pulled away.

"And now I think maybe the person on the 'mommy wagon' needs to go to bed," Logan smirked.

"And if _you_ ever use that term again, Logan Echolls, you'll be shut off!" she threatened with a snarl.

It was late by the time they got back to their hotel, and Veronica was drooping. She'd put him off earlier so she desperately wanted to make love to Logan, but she was simply too tired.

"I told Mac, you know," she said to Logan sleepily, as she crawled into bed.

"I know, Sweetie, I was there." He smiled at her fondly as he tucked her in.

"No, not that, not about the baby...or about us." She looked up at him with the softest look she'd ever yet given him.

"While you were up getting drinks...I told her that I was happy...that I loved you," she yawned. "But Mac said she'd known that for a long time." And with that, her eyes closed.

He could hardly believe it. Veronica, the most private person he'd ever known, had told somebody _else_ how she felt about him. As he slid into bed beside his wife, curling himself around her warm body, Logan thought that this was perhaps the single happiest moment of his life.

Later, when he had time to look back on this moment, Logan would reproach himself for letting down his guard, for forgetting that life had never been very kind to him. But, in the end, he knew it would have made no difference.

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She could feel the trickle between her legs before she was even awake. There was pain, too, not the intense kind, not the kind that you usually associate with a shattering, life-changing event, just the dull throbbing kind that seeps in when you least expect it.

She hadn't even realized she was moaning until she heard Logan's voice.

"Veronica, my god, what's wrong!?" Logan was startled out of a sound sleep.

"I think...oh, god, Logan, it feels like I'm bleeding."

Her eyes were filled with fear.

Logan looked at the clock. Three A.M. He made an instant decision that the front desk could probably get an ambulance there faster than he could, so he picked up the room phone and made his request, letting them know what was happening.

Then he hastily threw on some clothes and put in a call to Veronica's doctor, who promised to get in touch with a colleague in the area who would meet them at the hospital. Dr. Patel was familiar with San Francisco, and she told him to have the ambulance take Veronica to San Francisco General.

He'd barely gotten that done when the night manager was at the door with the paramedics, who went directly through to the bedroom. The manager told him that he had also made arrangements for Logan's transportation to the hospital.

"How far along is your wife, sir?" the paramedic asked, coming out of the bedroom a moment later, a transceiver clutched in his hand.

Logan grasped for the correct answer, unable to take in what he was afraid was happening. That Veronica was lying on the bed helpless, while their child bled out of her.

"Sir?" The paramedic with the SFFD emblazoned on his jacket asked again.

"About...four months," he finally responded. Or not at all. _ Or not at all._

But he couldn't think about that now. Veronica was his first priority, and he watched as the paramedics carefully wrapped her up and loaded her onto a gurney.

"Veronica," he said softly, trying to rouse a reaction from her. She finally looked at him, but the tears he expected - like the ones he could feel stinging at the back if his own eyes - weren't there. Instead, her face looked...blank.

"They won't let me ride in the ambulance but the hotel is already holding a cab for me downstairs, so I'll be right behind you." He tried to reassure her.

She nodded, understanding. At least he hoped she understood, because her face remained a mask.

They had her wheeled out and down the elevator in a matter of a very few minutes. If it had been the middle of the day, an ambulance at the entrance to a five-star hotel might have attracted some attention. As it was, there was no one around at all. No one to see, no one to witness yet another Echolls family tragedy.

Just as they were about to load her into the ambulance, the wall of blankness suddenly came down.

"Logan! Logan, what's happening?" She was disoriented and terrified. He saw the anguish in her eyes, the grief that they both knew was coming already starting to build.

"They're going to take good care of you, Veronica," he said, trying to conjure up some way, any way at all, that he could reassure her, comfort her.

"I love you," he finally said in desperation. Right now, it was all the comfort he knew how to give. "I'll be right behind you."

"Logan," she whimpered, as they loaded her into the ambulance, begging him with her eyes not to let it be happening, to somehow find a way to fix it.

Never in his whole, miserable, fucking life had he felt as helpless as he did at that moment.

"Sorry, sir, we need to go now," the paramedic said as he climbed in and closed the bay doors, leaving Logan standing there in the middle of the street. The ambulance took off with sirens wailing into the rainy San Francisco night.

Logan got into the cab and looked at his watch. Three-seventeen A.M. His whole life had fallen apart in just seventeen minutes.

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By the time Logan got to the Emergency Room, Veronica was being evaluated by Dr. Patel's colleague, a middle-aged man whose face was etched with fatigue.

"Dr. David Rivers," he said, offering his hand to Logan.

"I've done a quick examination, and I'm sorry to have to tell you both that I believe Veronica is having a miscarriage. It's not as common at this stage of a pregnancy, but it does happen." His face was a mask of sympathy.

"What happens now?" Logan asked quietly, moving to take Veronica's hand. It felt like ice.

"She's freezing cold," he said, concerned.

"Yes, she's lost a lot of blood. We're going to take Veronica upstairs to Obstetrics now for a more thorough examination, and then all we can do is watch her carefully and let nature take its course."

Logan nodded his head. "How long...will it take?"

"It's hard to say, but we'll be monitoring her the whole time. Your wife will be in good hands."

Dr. Rivers put a hand on Logan's shoulder, ever so briefly patted it. "I'm truly sorry."

It was all Logan could do not to flinch.

"You can wait upstairs. Third floor," Rivers added.

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Logan sat in the waiting room with two new fathers who spent their time on the phone letting family members know there was a new little Smith, or Jones, or what the fuck ever. But not Echolls. There wasn't going to be a new Echolls.

The others finally left and he sat there alone for what seemed like hours. He could see through the window that the sun had begun to peek through the gray morning mist, and he felt exhausted all the way down to his bones. He desperately needed a jolt of caffeine, but he just couldn't leave that spot in that room to search out a fucking cup of coffee until he'd seen Veronica again. Until he knew that she was all right.

Logan had never felt so alone in his life. Not when his mother had jumped off the Coronado Bridge. Not when his bastard father was revealed as a _murdering_ bastard. Not when Lilly died. Because he'd always had Veronica. Even when he hated her and she hated him, and every goddamned fucking thing in his life made no sense, she was still _there_. Somewhere.

He suddenly couldn't stand his own thoughts for one second longer. Six o'clock. He pulled out his phone, hoped she'd understand, because he really needed a friend.

Mac answered sleepily, confused by the early call on a Saturday morning. "Hello?"

"Mac?"

"Logan? What...what's wrong?" She was instantly awake. "Why are you calling at, uh, six-ten?"

"Veronica," he could hear it in his own voice, in the first words he'd said in over two hours, that he wasn't going to be able to hold it together much longer.

"Veronica?" Mac prompted, her concern making her tone strident.

"She...Veronica lost the baby, Mac."

"Oh, god, oh, god!" He could hear Mac saying softly on the other end of the line.

"Where are you?" she asked.

"Uh, San Francisco General. I, uh, don't know where it is. I took a cab."

"I'll find it, Logan. Where exactly are you in the hospital?"

"Third floor waiting room. Obstetrics."

"Oh, Christ," he heard Mac mutter under her breath. Then in a normal tone, "I'll be right there, Logan. I'm already dressed. Can I...can I bring you anything?"

"I'd kill for some coffee, Mac."

"Done," she said.

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By the time Mac arrived at 6:50, Logan was alone in the waiting room, nearly asleep sitting up. She sat down next to him, squeezed his hand, and handed him his coffee.

"I hope I remembered how you like your coffee," she said, but she knew it didn't really matter.

"What's happening, Logan?" Mac wanted to know.

Logan turned his head toward her as if his neck were rusty. "They're monitoring her. The doctor said it might take a while." His voice was barely above a whisper.

Mac studied Logan, and she could see that his eyes were red, but whether from fatigue or tears, she wasn't sure.

"Our baby's gone, Mac. She's just...gone." He looked at Mac, his eyes still disbelieving.

Mac remembered how Logan had been convinced that Veronica was having a girl.

"I know, Logan. I'm so, so sorry."

Logan looked down at the coffee he still hadn't touched and suddenly the tears that he must have been holding back for hours overwhelmed him. Mac took the cup from him and placed it on the table, afraid he'd spill the hot liquid all over himself. She put her arms around him and gently rocked him while he silently wept for his stillborn child and his grieving wife.

There wasn't really anything she could say, anything she could offer him, except her presence. Mac sat with Logan, offering her silent support for nearly two hours before the doctor finally returned.

"Mr. Echolls," Dr. Rivers said, "You can see your wife now." He paused. "Her body's been through a trauma. It's nothing she can't and won't recover from, but right now she's exhausted. When had you planned on returning to Neptune?"

"Uh, on Monday, but we'll do whatever you say is best for Veronica."

Dr. Rivers nodded. "We'd like to keep her here until tomorrow at least, just to make sure that there are no further complications. I'm going to get in touch with Dr. Patel, but if she concurs, and Veronica seems to be recovering, you should be able to leave on Monday as planned."

He paused and then said the words Logan had been waiting to hear for so many hours. "I'll take you to see her now."

Mac looked at Logan, who nodded for her to follow him down the hall.

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She was freezing cold. Veronica was always colder than everyone else, always. That's why she dressed in layers, shoving on more sweaters and jackets when everyone else was taking them off.

Lately, she'd been warm all the time. Lately. She knew it had been the baby keeping her warm, from the inside. But the baby wasn't inside her anymore.

The baby. That poor little ill-fated blob that had had the misfortune to pick Veronica Mars as its mother and Logan Echolls as its father. Stupid idea, she knew. Babies didn't pick their parents. If they did, would she have picked Lianne? Would Logan have picked Aaron?

No, she thought, you got what you got. And in this case, her child had been unlucky enough to get two people who should never have been together in the first place.

She'd known it all along. That they couldn't be happy, that something would happen, that the earth would crumble beneath their feet, the ship would sink, the walls would come tumbling down. She wondered if she'd missed any clichés.

No, she should have stuck to the original plan. Not let...Logan...make her think that they could somehow beat the odds. She'd been a fool. But now it was time to get back to reality.

The door opened and the doctor came back, the one who'd been with her all night, ever since...her mind veered away.

Logan was coming into the room, but she couldn't talk to him. It hurt too much, so Veronica turned her head toward the wall. It was easier to look at nothing than to look at Logan. Easier than looking into those eyes that thought they could love her enough to make everything all right. But things would _never_ be all right. Not until she once and for all gave up this fantasy of a happy life with Logan Echolls.

"Veronica?" She could hear the fatigue in his voice, and a part of her wanted desperately to hold him, to comfort him. But she knew it was more important than ever that she stay strong and ignore that part of herself until it withered and died.

"Should I go, Logan?" Another voice. Mac. Veronica turned toward Mac and held out her hand.

Mac eyed Logan tentatively, and he nodded. 'Its okay,' his look said. 'Maybe you can help her'.

Mac grabbed Veronica's hand, but before she could open her mouth to offer words of sympathy, Veronica cut her off.

"Thanks for coming, Mac," she said brightly, "but you didn't have to. He...he should never have bothered you on your day off."

Her face arranged itself into a parody of a smile and Mac felt her insides drop.

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Veronica stayed in that room, in that bed, for another 24 hours. Her body was slowly beginning to heal itself, but her spirits never seemed to improve. She said very little, closing in on herself as she was apt to do when life became simply too unbearable.

Logan wanted desperately to hold her, and for her to hold him. But while he saw his grief as a sadness to be shared between them, she saw it as something to be borne in solitude. So she lay in her bed while he kept silent watch in a chair by her side.

And while she slept, his hands, which had not been permitted to stroke her cheek or touch her hair while she was awake, reached out under cover of darkness to carry out those acts of love.

On Sunday morning, Veronica was discharged, and they returned to their suite at The Four Seasons. In a reversal of her earlier sentiments, Veronica begged Mac to come back to the hotel with them. Mac would later look back on that Sunday as one of the most painful and difficult days of her life.

It was clear that Veronica didn't want to talk to Logan, didn't want to look at Logan, didn't want to deal with Logan, and that she was using poor Mac as a buffer. Logan was too tired to call her on it, instead spending his time changing their flight to slightly later in the day and arranging for a car to the airport.

Veronica looked at him blankly when he asked if she wanted to call her dad. "No, you do it," was all she said. So he did that, too, filling Keith in and receiving his condolences. Keith, quite naturally, wanted to talk to Veronica, but when Logan held out the phone, she just shook her head 'no' without looking at him.

Logan finally collapsed onto the couch, exhausted in mind and body. But sleep was elusive.

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They all somehow made it through the rest of the day and night, even managing to eat something after Logan had food delivered to the room. When the hired car arrived to take Logan and Veronica to the airport the next morning, Mac saw them off with sad eyes and an aching heart.

Their flight to San Diego was routine, and they picked up the Range Rover from the airport lot and drove home through a pelting rainstorm, reaching Neptune by mid-afternoon. Veronica had barely spoken to Logan throughout the journey.

It wasn't until he was about to turn west off the freeway that he heard Veronica's voice.

"I want to go home, Logan," she said.

Logan sighed, relieved. "Good, because that's where we're headed."

"No. I want to go _home._ To _my _home, not yours." Her voice was calm.

"It's _our_ home, Veronica. You live there with me." He was puzzled.

"I did, but I don't anymore."

Logan cut across two lanes of traffic, jammed on the brakes, and took the next exit. He pulled into the closest strip mall, parked and turned off the motor.

"What the hell does _that_ mean?" he asked, swiveling in his seat to face Veronica.

"Take me home, Logan," was all she'd say, staring straight ahead.

Logan felt the anger building in him and he tried not to give in to it. After all they'd been through in the past two days, _now_ she was going to be pulling this bullshit again. He slammed the car into gear and pulled out of the lot, driving along the wet city streets until he came to the Sunset Cliffs apartments.

Keith was shocked to see them standing on his doorstep, but he hastily put his arms around his daughter. She turned her face into his shoulder, but showed no emotion.

"I'm really tired, Dad," she said, moving towards her old bedroom. "I think I'll just go to bed." She closed the bedroom door behind her without another word.

Keith looked to Logan for an explanation. He shrugged. "She insisted on coming here." It was all he had to say.

"Logan..." Keith stopped, at a loss for words and patted him on the shoulder. Quick tears sprang to Logan's eyes, and he turned away before they could spill over.

"I'm too tired to even think now, Keith." Logan said, his body sagging with obvious fatigue. "I'm going home. Could you...would you tell Veronica that I'll call her later?"

"Of course," Keith said, shaking his head at this latest development in the recent tragedy. "Try to get some sleep."

Logan barely made it home before collapsing. Hs mind was in turmoil. They'd lost their baby. And if that wasn't bad enough, if he wasn't already fucking sick at heart over that, Veronica had shut down so completely that it was as if the past few months hadn't happened. As if only days ago, they hadn't been nearly delirious with happiness.

But he was somewhere beyond exhaustion, and he simply couldn't stay awake for one second longer. After two sleepless nights, massive emotional trauma, shepherding a catatonic Veronica through two busy airports, and then driving back to Neptune, Logan slept like the dead.

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She was the first thought in his head as he woke slowly, and he was reaching for the phone before he was out of bed. Voice mail. _Goddammit!_

He was showered and out the door in 15 minutes, and at Keith's ten minutes later, but no one answered his knock.

Taking a chance, Logan continued on to Dr. Patel's office, where he found Keith sitting in the nearly empty waiting room. He looked apologetic when he saw Logan walk in the door.

"She insisted on coming first thing this morning, wouldn't let me call you." Keith ran his hand across his face, a gesture of resignation. "She had my cars keys in her hand, Logan. Threatened to come here by herself."

Keith sighed. "You probably know my daughter better than anyone on earth, so you know what she's like when she's made up her mind."

"What, made up her mind to act like a complete bitch? Is that what you mean?" He kept his voice low, but the barely-suppressed anger was evident.

Keith looked shocked, but not wholly unsympathetic.

Logan collapsed into a chair. "God, Keith, I'm sorry I said that. What the hell is wrong with me?"

"You've had a traumatic shock, Logan. You both have. And when something like that happens, those old ingrained coping mechanisms...well, yours is anger and Veronica, she just closes herself off."

At that moment, Veronica emerged from the inner office, and she stopped abruptly when she saw Logan sitting next to her father.

"Dad!" The admonition was clear.

"I didn't call him, honey, although I probably should have. But Logan's a smart guy. He figured it out."

She rushed past them out the door and into the parking lot, Logan following behind her.

"Veronica, wait! What did the doctor say? Are you okay?"

"Well, not that it's any of your business, but it seems I'll soon be back to normal."

Logan stopped dead, grabbing at her arm, pulling her around to face him. "Not any of my business? Are you fucking kidding me?"

As they stood there confronting each other, the air between them fairly crackling with electricity, Logan's face showed every single emotion he was feeling...and Veronica's showed nothing at all.

"Logan," Keith tried to intervene. "I know you're angry and upset. Why don't you go home now and come back tomorrow. Come for dinner." He held his breath as Logan and Veronica continued to stare at one another.

"Okay, I'll go home," Logan said, his voice anguished. "But I'd like my wife to come with me. The woman who told me how much she loved me not even a week ago."

Veronica looked up sharply then, and he had a burst of hope when he saw her glassy eyes and shaking hands. But then she seemed to draw on a reserve of strength from somewhere deep inside her, a place that only the Veronicas of this world can find. And right before his eyes, her body stilled, her back straightened, and she fairly marched back to Keith's car, slamming the door behind her.

And Logan knew the beginnings of despair.

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Logan did go back the next day, but Veronica refused to have any sort of meaningful conversation with him. He left after thirty minutes.

This began a pattern that continued over a period of weeks. Logan sometimes asking for, sometime begging for - and occasionally demanding - an explanation. Veronica just as adamantly refusing to engage with him.

They'd played this tune and danced this dance many times before, but this time it seemed to Logan as though somehow the stakes were higher. This time he felt like he was fighting for his life.

Veronica's body eventually recovered from the miscarriage and she began to look more like her old self. The old self that refused to acknowledge any connection with Logan Echolls.

One afternoon, Logan noticed that Veronica had managed, no doubt with Keith's help, to retrieve her car from his garage. The next day, when he made his daily pilgrimage to the Sunset Cliffs apartments, she demanded the return of her belongings from the beach house.

Keith wasn't home that day, and when Veronica had opened the door and Logan walked in, she had panicked and looked for some way to get rid of him quickly. But her ploy didn't work. Logan suggested to her that if she wanted her stuff she could come and pick it up herself.

"As if I'd ever step a foot back in that place," she countered.

That brought Logan's head up sharply.

"You seemed to like it well enough a few weeks ago," he shot back.

"Things were different then. Everything was different then."

"Yeah, Veronica, what was different? You're still my wife. We still love each other." His eyes begged her to agree.

Veronica looked at him in horror. "What's different? You unfeeling bastard! Don't you give a damn that our baby is dead?" Veronica couldn't stop the tears that sprang up suddenly.

"Don't I give a damn?! You think I don't care? You think I didn't want our baby as much as you did? You think I haven't been trying to grieve, but I can't seem to find a way to do it because I'm so filled with grief over losing you? And it's making me crazy. Goddammit, Veronica!"

Logan paused, trying to collect himself. "_I'm _the one who had to dismantle the baby furniture," he said. "_I'm_ the one who had to carry that fucking pink bear out to the trash. I sat in that house for two goddamn weeks before I could even open the door to the...yellow room." He couldn't have gotten the word "nursery" out of his mouth if there had been a gun to his head.

Logan turned away from her then, rubbing his hand across his eyes as he tried to calm himself, then shifted back towards her.

"I can't imagine what it was like for you, lying there, bleeding. I know you felt helpless. But so did I, Veronica. So did I." How could he make her understand?

"Why were we even there, Logan?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean in that hotel, in San Francisco. Why weren't we at home?"

"I...we were taking a trip...a honeymoon...visiting Mac." She knew that as well as he did.

"And maybe if we hadn't been, if we'd been home... "

"Veronica, the trip had nothing to do with it. I asked Dr. Rivers about that specifically, and he was very clear. He must have told you." She couldn't possibly think...

Veronica looked mutinous. Her look said she knew what had happened and no amount of argument was about to change her mind.

"Veronica." Logan was appalled. "Do you blame...me? You think...somehow...if I hadn't suggested the trip...if we'd been home..." He felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

"I...I don't know, Logan." She relented. "I just know that it wasn't meant to be, that none of it was meant to be. It started as a mistake, and we tried to make it into something that it wasn't."

Her face was set and her chin came up. "I should have known better."

"But we were happy," he whispered, closing his eyes, remembering how it had been. "We...loved each other." He opened his eyes and looked straight into hers. "We _love_ each other."

"No," she said dully. "We just thought we were happy."

Logan ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "What can I do, Veronica? What can I do to make this better?"

"You can keep your promise, Logan. That's what you can do."

"I am keeping my promise. The one I made to love you and honor you, in sickness and in health." He willed her to remember.

Her tone was low, her body stiff, as though she were holding herself together through sheer force of will. "I'm not talking about that promise. I'm talking about the one you made that we could dissolve this ...this marriage whenever I wanted. Those were your words. Whenever I wanted."

"But that was before..." Logan couldn't believe that this was what she really wanted. He knew she loved him.

"You promised," she said, "_you promised."_ Her voice was anguished, her control slipping. Before he could say another word, she bolted down the hallway to her bedroom and closed the door behind her.

For a long while, Logan stood there in the stillness of that small living room, unable to move. Finally he turned and let himself out.

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Logan held out for as long as he could, praying that she would change her mind, because he knew very well that she still loved him.

In all the years that they'd known each other, through all the many iterations of their crazy roller-coaster relationship, _this_ had been the time, when they been together so freely and so happily, that he'd finally understood how desperately they loved one another. In the past, perhaps, he might have wondered about the depth of Veronica's feelings for him. But not anymore.

_And she was throwing it all away._ Something horrible had happened, and, yes, he was still coming to grips with his grief over the loss of their child. But somehow in her head, Veronica had twisted that tragedy until she was sure that what had occurred had not been just the tragic loss of a child but some kind of karmic testimony, some proof from the gods, that their relationship was doomed.

So Logan held out as long as he could, but all the while she kept reiterating that he had promised her, and she was holding him to that promise, and she refused to discuss anything else. Their child was never mentioned again. After three weeks, in despair, he surrendered.

From where he sat in his car, Logan had a clear view of the doorway to the Mars apartment. As soon as Keith left, he got out and made his way to the door. It felt like he was walking to his own execution.

"Okay, you win," he said as soon as Veronica opened the door, every word like a knife to his heart. "I'll call Cliff and have him draw up the divorce papers."

Veronica looked at him with expressionless eyes and said nothing.

Logan shifted as if to turn away, but changed his mind suddenly. Quickly, he reached over and stroked Veronica's cheek, savoring the feel of her skin just one more time, then bent down and gently kissed her on the forehead.

"Goodbye, Veronica," he whispered, before turning and making his way back to his car. He didn't look back.

Veronica stood there for a moment, catching her breath, and then softly closed the door.

He called Cliff from the car. "I'm gonna give her what she wants, Cliff," he said, his voice empty of emotion. "Can you just make it as simple as possible?"

"I'm really sorry, kid," Cliff said. "I always thought you two..." He paused, sighing. "Yes, you've been married only a short time and I can draw up a simple no-fault divorce agreement that I think will pass muster with the court. I'll let you know when to come in and sign it."

When her dad got home, Veronica told him about Logan's visit and that soon it would all be behind her. If Keith wondered why, when Veronica had finally gotten exactly what she'd asked for, he later heard her sobbing in her room for hours, he certainly never asked.

A week later, Cliff called both Veronica and Logan and asked them to come in to sign the divorce agreement. He made their appointments several hours apart so that they'd be certain not to run into one another. It rained all day that day.

That evening, Keith Mars came home to an empty house and a note from Veronica telling her dad that she'd gone to stay with Mac for a while. Beside the note lay her wedding ring, which she asked Keith to return to Logan.

Keith reluctantly called Logan, who came almost immediately to pick up the ring. The two men shook hands and Logan left without saying a word.

When he got back to the beach house, Logan removed his own ring and stared at both rings for a long while before shutting them into the drawer of his nightstand. He sat down on the bed, wondering how he was ever going to be able to forget.

But Logan was nothing if not a realist. The divorce agreement had been signed and as soon as it was filed, his brief marriage to Veronica would be over. He was going to have to find a way to accept that. He thought, in time, he might be able to manage it.

But to learn to live without her? Ah, that was going to be the tough one.

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Betty Whitlow hadn't been working for Cliff McCormack for very long, but he seemed to be an okay boss. He didn't pay all that much, but then he put up with her sometimes creative spelling and spotty filing. But the thing she liked most was that he often sent her to the courthouse with important documents to be filed. That's when she was glad she'd taken the job with Mr. McCormack instead of the boring accountant across the hall.

So Betty wasn't surprised when Cliff gave her a divorce agreement and asked her to leave a few minutes early that day and bring it to the courthouse for filing. He said it was important and that he'd do it himself but he had an appointment, for which he was already late. Betty was still standing there with her mouth open and the papers in her hand when she heard the outside door close.

Betty frowned; this was a problem. While she ordinarily loved her courthouse visits, on that particular day Betty had an appointment at Antoine's for a mani-pedi right after work. She'd had to wait more than a month to secure that appointment, and if she went all the way downtown to the courthouse, which was in the opposite direction from Antoine's salon, there wasn't a chance she'd make it back in time to keep her appointment. She looked at her hands and frowned. She wasn't waiting another month to take care of these ratty nails.

Betty was in a quandary. But then she brightened, the solution coming to her in a flash. She'd mail the papers to the court, instead. Oh, not just plain old regular mail, because that wouldn't be responsible. Betty knew better than that.

No, she was going to send those papers to the court by certified mail because she knew that was what you did with important stuff. She quickly typed up an envelope, pulled out a certified mail sticker from her supply, and affixed it to the envelope.

It was pouring when Betty finally left the office, and she was glad that she'd remembered to take her umbrella that day. But even the rain couldn't ruin her mood. She smiled happily to herself as she dropped the envelope into the mailbox that was conveniently located right outside the office building. There, she thought, she'd solved that problem very professionally. And then she ran through the rain to her car, clutching her umbrella tightly, and moving on to the really important part of her day.

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Ever since he was a small child, Wayne Sorensen had wanted to be a postman. It wasn't a lofty ambition, but it was an honest one. He saw himself as a romantic figure, his daily visits linking his customers with the outside world. But after 25 years, the romance of the postal service had begun to fade for Wayne, and he developed bunions so painful that he spent his days off soaking his tired feet in hot water and dreading his return to work.

So when a job opened up at the regional post office, Wayne applied and was thrilled to find that his seniority secured him the position. Instead of being on his feet all day, he would be driving around collecting the contents of the mailboxes that were scattered across the city, and then returning the mail to the regional post office for sorting. Wayne couldn't have been more pleased.

It was raining again the day that he started his new job. He chuckled to himself, thinking, _Neither rain nor snow..._and was glad he could spend most of this rainy day inside a nice, dry truck.

Wayne had almost completed his rounds when he found something in one of the final boxes on his route that put a frown on his face. _Certified mail!_ Everyone knew that certified mail should be brought directly to the post office, not dropped willy-nilly into a mailbox. Wayne harrumphed and brought that letter into the cab of his truck for safekeeping, bundling up the rest of the mail into regulation canvas bags.

He was sighing with relief that his first day was over, and congratulating himself on how well it had gone, when it turned out that by sheer bad luck, Wayne's nearly perfect day was about to collide with an extraordinary climatic event.

It would later be noted that 2010 was the wettest year in Southern California in the 122 years that such data had been recorded. It was so wet, in fact, had rained so often that year, that creeks, streams, and rivers were filled to overflowing, and dry gulches were no longer dry. The land was saturated and had reached a breaking point, and something had to give.

After yet another day of pouring rain, all the overflowing creeks and streams and rivers finally rose up in protest and with a suddenness that was breathtaking, flash floods erupted all over the city. The water rose so quickly, in fact, that one second Wayne was driving on pavement, and the next he'd turned a corner into a wall of water. There was no chance that he could keep the truck upright, and it turned over in an instant.

Later, he would feel himself extremely fortunate to have been rescued from the flood, and even more fortunate that his cargo, in its heavy canvas bags, had eventually made it safely to the regional post office. _Not a single piece lost,_ he proudly told his supervisor.

It was really not surprising that after such a harrowing experience, Wayne had forgotten all about that improperly-posted piece of certified mail, the one that he'd brought into the cab for "safekeeping."

The envelope that was, in fact, now sodden and rapidly disintegrating and on its way downstream to the Pacific Ocean.

**END OF PART ONE**

**A/N: I have no training in either medicine or law, so I apologize to any of you who have such training for any egregious errors I might have made in those parts of the story. I hope you will be able to overlook them.**


	6. Part II - Chapter 1

Part II Chapter 1

She really didn't want to go to this shindig tonight. She'd rather have hunkered down with Jane Austen and a bowl of Rocky Road. She'd managed to find excuses to dodge the last two dinners, and tried her best to get out of this one, too, but eventually her guilt had overcome her reluctance. Veronica understood that this was one of the obligations that came with being engaged to a man like Matthew Garcia.

Matthew didn't make many emotional demands - and that was of prime importance to Veronica. But there were certain things - she preferred not to think of them as duties - that he did expect, and for her to be by his side at events like business dinners and charity balls was one of them.

She knew he liked to show her off, his much younger fiancée. Veronica didn't think much about her looks unless she thought she could use them to her advantage somehow, fool people into underestimating her. But she knew she was...attractive. And she supposed that if Matthew wanted to...parade her...a little, she was okay with it.

In some ways, she was amazed to find herself with a fiancé at all. She supposed that it meant she'd eventually be getting married...again. Veronica sat on the bed abruptly, her legs suddenly giving out.

Dammit! After all this time she should be over it. It was a chapter in her life that was dead and buried...as dead as...No! She wasn't going down that path in her head tonight. Not when she had to get ready for another one of those interminable dinners that Matthew seemed to get invited to with increasing regularity.

And she knew it was only going to get worse. More demanding. Ever since he'd told her about his political ambitions. She sighed. He hadn't mentioned anything about political aspirations when he'd asked her to marry him, but she couldn't say she was surprised.

He was a man who'd come up from humble beginnings and was now one of the most successful attorneys in Northern California. He had accumulated wealth and attained a position of respect, but now, he said, he wanted to give something back.

To work in the public sector would mean a loss of income - Veronica certainly knew that well enough - but he wanted to do something to root out some of the corruption that he'd seen growing up. Well, she could relate to that, as she recalled her teen years in Neptune after her father was booted out of office.

Veronica had never been back to Neptune, not since she'd fled, leaving behind only a short note for her dad. Oh, she'd seen Keith often enough. It wasn't a long trip to either Palo Alto or San Francisco, and he'd come to visit frequently. But she couldn't go back. She'd just wanted to forget.

She often wondered why she didn't feel that way about San Francisco, considering everything that had happened here. But it was a big city, and as long as she stayed away from San Francisco General and Ghirardelli Square, she'd found that she was okay.

Veronica rooted around in the back of her closet for one of the half-dozen dresses that she considered acceptable attire for one of Matthew's dinners. She knew she could have had a dozen more, if she'd let Matthew pay for them, but she'd been down that road before...

She stilled. Willed herself to change the direction of her thoughts.

She could have had a dozen more dresses, but she thought the ones she had were sufficient. Veronica had already told Matthew that when they married, she wouldn't suddenly become a trophy wife. She laughed softly to herself, wondering if he really believed her.

He should know what kind of a person she was, Veronica thought, slipping the sheer black chiffon over her head and stepping into the strappy sandals. The heels were not that high, so she was able to put the shoes on without having to sit down. Her mind wandered_._ _Lower heels because she didn't need to make up as much height when they walked together or danced together. Matthew was barely five-ten, quite a bit shorter than..._

Dammit! She'd spent years training her agile mind not to go there, and tonight she couldn't seem to think of anything else.

Veronica sighed. She supposed it was the engagement, which was only a few weeks old. She looked down at the 3-carat rock on her finger and tried not to think about that platinum band with diamond chips that she'd left on her father's kitchen table all those years ago.

Five years, she thought. No, closer to six.

Veronica finally gave up, sat on the bed, and let her mind wander to where it seemed to want to go, to that heartbroken twenty-three-year-old who had left Neptune without any plan at all except to get away. She'd fled to Mac, who'd taken her in in a heartbeat. Who had looked at her sad face and her ringless finger, and had asked no questions.

She smiled softly, thinking about Mac's tiny apartment, and herself camped out on the second-hand couch for months. At the time, it had felt like sanctuary.

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For a week, she didn't leave the apartment at all, keeping herself busy baking endless batches of cookies and cleaning the apartment from one end to the other. When Mac came home from work, she laughed and said that Veronica was welcome to stay without turning herself into the maid or the cook.

It was December, and the weather was chilly, much colder than Veronica was used to. But once she finally ventured out, she found that the cold didn't bother her as much as she'd expected, and she walked the city for hours, learning everything about it. Christmas came and went, and she and Mac stayed put.

Mac's family had been disappointed when she told them she wouldn't be able to make it home for the holidays. A project at work, she had told them, hating to lie to her family, but knowing that Veronica needed her more than they did this year. Keith knew there wasn't a chance Veronica would be coming home. He called and they talked, and he knew he'd have to be satisfied with that.

Shortly after the new year, Veronica began to feel restless and decided to look for work. It would be months before she'd be starting law school and she needed to make some money now while she had the chance.

She thought it unlikely that there'd be any local PIs looking for short-term help, so she concentrated on the local coffee shops who might be interested in an experienced barista. As luck would have it, she found work within walking distance of the apartment.

Mac got a promotion at work and was able to move into a slightly larger place nearby, but still with just one bedroom. They both knew it was pointless to look for a two-bedroom flat. In late summer, Veronica would be starting law school in Palo Alto, close enough to allow for frequent visiting, but far enough away to make it impractical for them to be roommates.

When March came,Veronica refused to think about what the month _wasn't _going to bring, instead forcing herself to look ahead. She focused on making arrangements for her student loans for the upcoming school year, and took the train to Palo Alto. She decided to begin at the Bursar's Office, and then visit the folks in Financial Aid to find out the most efficient way to sign her life away.

But she never got that far.

The clerk in the Bursar's Office looked up expectantly when Veronica walked in the door. Her nametag read "Ellen."

"Hi, Ellen," Veronica said. It never hurt to be pleasant, to make the interaction personal. She smiled.

"My name is Veronica Mars and I'm going to be starting at the law school in the fall. I'm looking for some numbers to take to Financial Aid."

"Uh, you don't have your acceptance letter? That information is usually included in the packet." Ellen smiled in return, sure she was being helpful.

"I don't have it with me, no," Veronica said, trying not to show her impatience. "And originally, I was supposed to start last fall, but I had to defer. I know there's often a change in costs from year to year, so I just wondered..."

"Uh, what did you say your name was?" Ellen looked uncertain.

"Veronica Mars."

"Let me just check with the bursar, Veronica." Ellen walked down the hall and knocked before entering a private office. She was gone only a few minutes before she returned and asked Veronica to follow her.

"Mrs. Rutledge, our bursar, would like to speak with you," she explained.

Veronica found herself in a small office, smaller than she might have thought for a position of importance at such a lofty institution. The slim, graying, middle-aged woman rose and held out her hand.

"Hello, Veronica," she said. "Won't you have a seat?" She indicated the chair facing her across the desk.

Veronica sat, feeling the slight stirrings of panic. She hoped there were no problems with her deferral, or her enrollment.

"I understand that you were looking for information about law school tuition costs." The bursar looked pleasant enough, but Veronica was withholding judgment.

"That's right," Veronica said. "I'm not sure if Ellen told you, but I was supposed to begin this year, but had to defer."

"Yes, she did mention that, but that's not why I asked to speak with you." She paused. "Ellen also said you wanted to know the costs before you visited our Financial Aid Office."

Veronica nodded slowly. "That's right," she said again, unsure exactly where this conversation was heading.

"Well," Mrs. Rutledge said, "you see, that's just what I don't understand."

"What don't you understand?" Veronica's voice reflected her bewilderment.

"I don't understand why you're planning a visit to Financial Aid when all your fees, costs, and tuition have already been paid." The slightest wrinkle of her brow in her otherwise placid face showed that the bursar was equally bewildered.

"But...that can't be." Veronica, who was never at a loss, was speechless. Could her dad have managed to cobble together the funds to pay for her first semester?

She cleared her throat. "I guess my dad wanted to surprise me, " she said. "But I like to plan ahead, so maybe you could tell me about the second semester fees. And the last two years."

The frown on Mrs. Rutledge's face deepened.

"I don't think you understand, Veronica. Your law school costs have been paid for the entire three years. Everything is taken care of." She smiled brightly, sure that Veronica would be thrilled.

And that's when Veronica knew.

The confusion left Veronica's face and determination took its place. Some might even have called the expression "stubborn."

"And what if I don't accept that my fees have been paid? What if I tell you that I want you to return that money to...whoever sent it?"

Mrs. Rutledge's face took on an odd expression.

"And why in the world would you ask us to do that? Why would you even _want_ to do that?"

"I...I can't say. I just...I just don't want it."

Mrs. Rutledge frowned.

"Are the funds the result of some criminal enterprise?" she asked. "Should we call the police?"

"No, of course not!" Veronica looked horrified.

Mrs. Rutledge's face cleared. "Well, that's a relief! Then no, Veronica, we aren't in the habit of returning tuition payments." She paused. "Unless, of course, you decide not to enroll."

She looked at Veronica with a smile. "Of course, why would you pass up an opportunity to attend the best law school in the country?" She shrugged in answer to her own question. "But if you did, then I have very specific instructions."

"Instructions?" By now, Veronica was gritting her teeth. "And what would those instructions be?"

"Well, then the payments are to travel with you. Wherever you go to law school, your tuition will be paid. If you decide to attend another type of graduate school, your tuition will be paid."

Veronica clenched her teeth. She couldn't, _couldn't_ accept such a gift from...him. But it seemed as though she was not going to have a choice.

She got up abruptly, almost knocking over her chair in her haste, and practically ran for the door.

"Veronica..."

Mrs. Rutledge's voice stopped her in her tracks. She forced herself to turn toward the woman.

"Yes?"

"Good luck," she said pleasantly.

By the time she got back to Mac's apartment, Veronica was livid. Mac wouldn't to be home for at least two hours and she needed to vent her anger on someone. She called Keith.

Her dad was, as always, happy to hear from her, but she had no time for idle chit-chat today.

"Dad," she said, eschewing any preliminary greeting. "What do you know about my law school tuition?"

"I know it's bound to be hefty, Veronica, but I thought you were prepared for that."

"Then, you...don't know?" She was near tears by this time.

"Know what, Veronica?" Keith was becoming alarmed. "What's wrong?"

"He...he's paid my tuition...for the whole three years." Veronica answered, speaking so softly that at first Keith wasn't sure he'd heard her right.

"He...Logan paid for law school?" Keith asked, connecting the dots.

"Dad," he could hear the tears in her voice by then. "I gotta go. I'll...I'll call you soon."

Veronica hung up the phone and sat down heavily on the couch. Mac found her there, sitting in the dark, when she got home a couple of hours later.

"Veronica, what's wrong?" She was so still, so silent, that Mac began to worry. And she could see that Veronica had been crying.

"Why did he do it, Mac? Why would he pay for law school?" she asked Mac without looking at her.

"What...who? Oh, my god! Logan. Logan paid your tuition." Mac was astonished, and at the same time... unsurprised.

"But why, Mac?" She turned her bewildered face toward her friend. "Why, after everything that happened?"

Mac was pretty sure she understood, and she crossed her fingers that she'd be able to explain it to her closest friend

"Veronica," she began, knowing she was on shaky ground. But she needed to be honest.

"Logan loves you. You left," here Veronica turned toward her, ready to do battle. Mac's voice was soft, soothing. "You had your reasons, I know that."

She put her arm around Veronica's slim shoulders. "But...you gotta understand that Logan...well, he's not gonna just stop loving you."

She looked Veronica in the eye. "He couldn't make you stay...and you can't make him stop loving you. And this...it's the only thing he can do for you, so he did it."

"Did you know?" she asked Mac. The fight seemed to go out of her.

"Nope," Mac said. "I would have told him he was nuts." They both laughed a little.

"But I think you should just...accept it. Accept his gift. It was given with love, and those kinds of gifts you shouldn't try to return."

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Veronica remembered it all, the frustration of being forced to accept a gift that almost anyone she knew would welcome. She remembered how long it had taken her to come to terms with it.

But eventually, she had set aside her frustration, and her resentment, and, if she were being honest, her guilt, and looked upon Logan's gift with gratitude. Because when Veronica graduated from Stanford Law near the top of her class, she was not weighed down with debt.

The prospect of looming loan repayments did not factor into Veronica's job search at all. So although she was courted by some of the best law firms in the city, Veronica had the luxury of being able to follow her own inclinations when choosing her career path.

Graduation was followed by months of intense study for the California Bar Exams. It was no surprise to anyone who knew her that Veronica passed the bar on her first try. What might have been a surprise was that two weeks later she accepted a job as the most junior ADA in the office of the Marin County District Attorney.

She'd been there nearly two years. Sometimes she could hardly believe it. Of course, if Matthew had his way, she'd quit the job in the DA's Office for something more lucrative. He never used that term, of course. No, Matthew always said she could find something more "challenging." But what could be more challenging than prosecuting lawbreakers? Than seeing them punished for their crimes?

Veronica had long since given up trying to personally right every injustice that fell across her path. That way lay madness, she understood that now. So she had found a way to integrate that part of herself into her everyday responsibilities.

In some ways, perhaps even in many ways, she had changed over the years. But not in this. Veronica Mars was still a seeker of justice.

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She heard the buzzer downstairs and grabbed her purse. Matthew didn't like to be kept waiting, and she tried to accommodate him. She understood. Her own tendency toward impatience was something she still fought to curb every day.

Veronica wasn't sure where they were going or what the purpose of the dinner was. It made no difference. Nowadays, it was all in the name of "networking" and "name recognition." And looking for men even wealthier than himself to help fill the campaign coffers.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs and opened the door, she found Matthew waiting for her by the hired car. She approached, and he smiled and kissed her cheek.

"I wish you would consider moving to a building with a concierge, Veronica," he said, opening the car door for her. They'd had this conversation many times and her answer was always the same.

"I like to live within my means, Matthew. It might not look good if a lowly ADA could suddenly afford a luxury apartment." She smiled to take away the sting of her disagreement.

Matthew sighed. "There is an answer to that, too," he said, but that was another argument he wasn't going to win.

"You look beautiful, Veronica," he said, helping her into the car. "But then, you always do."

He settled into his seat and gave the driver instructions, eyeing more closely the filmy chiffon of her black evening dress. "Of course, I have seen that dress at least a half dozen times before." Why was she so stubborn about taking things from him? He'd like to give her...well, not the world. No woman deserved that from a man. But he could certainly give her...things. Things that she needed.

Veronica rubbed the material of her skirt between her thumb and forefinger, amused. "And look," she said, "plenty of good wear still left in it."

Matthew frowned and Veronica's face broke into a grin as she settled into her corner of the car.

"You wouldn't have already seen this dress so many times if we didn't have to go to so many of these damned dinners." Then she added, "I really can't have a late night tonight, Matthew. I'm still on trial in the Patterson case, and I've got to get up very early."

"You can take the car back, Veronica, any time you want."

She nodded and settled in for the ride out to Sausalito.

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Veronica had met Matthew at a dinner not so different from the one they were attending tonight. That had been the previous fall, and she smiled to herself thinking that she was pretty sure she'd been wearing this very same dress that evening, too.

She'd been recruited at the last minute by her bureau chief, Len Rosetti, to fill in at a dinner that he and his wife were giving. His wife was a partner in an uptown law firm, _Matthew Garcia and_ _Associates_, and she was hosting a dinner in their home for some important clients.

Len had been talking with Veronica when the panicked call had come from his wife that two of the guests had dropped out at the last minute, both women.

"I'm sure it's not going to matter, Maggie...so what if there'll only be two women..." His eye had fallen speculatively on Veronica. _Hmmm. If nothing else, she'd be sure to liven up the conversation._

"I've got this covered, Mag. Get back to making the spaghetti." He grinned suddenly, and Veronica could easily see how fond he was of his wife. "No, I know we're not having spaghetti. See you later."

"So, Mars," he said, hanging up the phone, "you got anything in your closet that will pass for an evening dress?"

Veronica had had a long day, and the last thing she'd wanted was to go to a dinner party at her boss's house. But she liked Len, he loved his wife, and, well, she supposed she should get out more socially.

So she'd gone home and fished out of her closet the dress that she'd bought on sale at Barney's the one time that Mac had talked her into going to a gallery opening, and that had been languishing there ever since, waiting to be worn again.

Matthew had been at that dinner and she remembered how he'd looked her over when they'd met. As though she must be an idiot. Or maybe a slut. _Who knew about a woman who looked like that? _his glance seemed to say.

They'd been seated side by side and she'd returned the inspection, not bothering to be any more subtle about it than he'd been. Early-forties, dark hair just beginning to gray, medium height, nice smile. Later, he'd turned that smile on her, with a polite question.

"How did you find law school, Veronica?" Matthew asked, with just the right shade of condescension. At whatever no-name institution you managed to squeak into, his look seemed to add.

Veronica glanced over at Len, who was grinning from ear to ear, waiting gleefully for his most junior ADA to put his wife's boss in his place.

They'd been talking law schools, complaining about the three grueling years they'd all put in. Just a bunch of lawyers, comparing notes, right? But Veronica knew better. They'd been playing a game of one-upmanship all night, and now it was time for a round of 'my law school was more prestigious than yours'.

They might just as well have been a bunch of six-year-olds on the playground and Veronica was sick of it.

"Law school?" Veronica simpered, in her best Southern Belle accent that she hadn't trotted out in years. "Why, whatever do you mean? You mean I need more than my Community College degree to work with Len?"

Len's grin widened, used to Veronica's shenanigans, but his wife looked alarmed. The last thing she wanted was for her boss to be mocked by the last-minute addition to their dinner party.

Matthew Garcia looked perplexed, and shot a quizzical glance at his host, just as Veronica excused herself to "powder her nose." As she left the table, she heard Len laughing.

"Veronica has quite a sense of humor," he explained. "She went to law school just down the road."

"Berkeley?" she heard someone ask, and then very faintly, Len's reply. "A little further down the road."

When Veronica returned, intending to make a quick getaway, Matthew had offered her a ride home, but she'd declined, saying she didn't want to take him out of his way. But he'd understood that the real message was '_get lost.' _She'd left, hoping never to see him again.

The next day, she found an enormous bouquet of flowers sitting on her desk when she returned from court. The accompanying card requested her company at dinner that evening. Veronica thought the flowers looked - and smelled - like a funeral arrangement. She tossed them in the trash and declined the invitation.

But a man like Matthew Garcia did not give up easily. For some reason, she found his single- minded pursuit of her amusing rather than annoying. So much so, that when she eventually gave in and accepted his dinner invitation, she found herself also enjoying his company.

Veronica had done some dating during her law school years, but it had been mostly of the frantic hook-up variety. During the school year, no one had time for anything but the most casual social life. Every spring was spent scrambling to get the most prestigious summer internship, and every summer was spent on a quest to be the most impressive intern in that most prestigious internship.

It had all been exhausting, and Veronica acknowledged that it had often led to some very bad choices on the rare occasions when she did attempt a social life. She'd sometimes let herself off the hook by reminding herself that a girl has needs.

When she joined the DA's Office, Veronica figured it was time to get herself back into the dating game. But things never seemed to work out. It was never hard to find men who wanted to take her out. That wasn't the problem. And she often enjoyed herself, as she was finally able to let go of some of the pressures of law school. And the sex - if she liked the guy well enough to let it get that far - well, that was usually okay, too.

No, the problem was that they were all looking for things that she couldn't give them. Hearts and flowers. Soul-searing passion. Commitments that included suburban houses with lawns that needed weekly mowing. And kids.

'What, you don't like kids?' they'd all ask, pretending she must be kidding, confident that they could change her mind. Each one knew that he would be the one she'd want to build the picket fence with, have the babies with, bare her soul to. And each one was disappointed, to varying degrees, when he finally understood that it was never going to happen.

Matthew Garcia was different. He'd been married early, while still in law school, and he had a 20-year-old daughter who apparently spent her time contributing to the strands of gray that graced his temples and lent a distinguished air to his handsome face.

Matthew was not interested in suburban family life, with its barbecues and PTA meetings. Or any family life, for that matter. He hadn't been very good at it the first time around because he'd been busy building up his law practice. Some would say he'd been busy stealing it out from under the unsuspecting nose of his former father-in-law, but that would probably depend on where you were sitting when it all went down.

If you were Bryce Harrison, Jr., then Matthew Garcia was an upstart Latino who had befriended your son, Bryce III, in law school, knocked up and married your daughter, and eventually amassed enough power within the law firm where he'd graciously been given his start to pull off a hostile takeover.

Out with the old, in with the new, and suddenly _Harrison, Harrison, and Garcia _had become _Matthew Garcia and Associates_. Matthew had brought in a lot of bright young attorneys, rainmakers, and he'd never looked back. So if you were part of the new team, someone like Maggie Rosetti, you respected him and credited him with saving a hidebound law firm from folding under its own weight.

Veronica, who had grown up in Neptune despising the entitled 09ers holed up in their gated enclaves, subscribed to the latter view. Besides, she liked Len and couldn't imagine his wife working for someone she couldn't admire.

She'd continued to see Matthew, fitting him into her schedule whenever it was convenient for them both. The sex - eventually - had been good. He knew his way around a woman's body, and besides, things had been a little barren in that area for Veronica lately. Matthew hadn't wanted the hearts and flowers, either, which was just as well.

When Matthew proposed, it had been a bit of a shock. Now that she knew about his plan to run for Attorney General, the cynical side of Veronica was less surprised. Married politicians were somehow more appealing.

Sometimes Veronica still wasn't sure why she'd accepted. During the day, when her work kept her so occupied that she didn't have much time to ponder her life, she thought it might have something to do with the need for stability. Since she'd left Neptune, she'd often felt like a rolling stone, and she wanted - _needed_ - to be a little more grounded.

But at night, when the sounds and the distractions of the day faded away, and she couldn't avoid seeing things a little more clearly, she understood that maybe Matthew was just another way to hide from life. He was safe. He didn't ask much of her. He couldn't hurt her.

And in those rare moments when she woke up in the middle of the night gasping from a nightmare she couldn't and didn't want to remember, the irony of it all sometimes pressed in on her. She might be able to fool herself, and him, into believing that she had tender feelings for her fiancé, but she knew deep down that marriage to Matthew would be little more than a marriage of convenience.

The irony? That other, earlier union, the one she still fought so hard to put behind her, that she had labeled in her head a 'marriage of convenience', that marriage had been anything but.

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Veronica was startled out of her reverie as the car pulled into a circular drive nearly hidden behind a tall hedge and stopped in front of an impressive porticoed mansion.

"We're here, Veronica," Matthew said, putting away the papers he'd been working on, and helping her out of the car.

"I think you'll like Jim Farnsworth," he said as they walked up the brick pathway that led to the front door. "Or at least you'll like his wife, Ginny. She has a way of gathering the most intriguing people for a dinner party."

Veronica grinned in anticipation. _Intriguing_. Well, that would certainly make a nice change.

Whatever Jim Farnsworth had done to be able to afford such a magnificent house, Veronica appreciated that he was not too self-important to answer his own door.

"Come in, come in," he said. "Meet Ginny's latest crop of interesting finds."

The night was warm and Veronica had no coat, so they were ushered directly into the Farnsworth's vast living room.

"Why don't you make the introductions, Gin?" Farnsworth asked his wife.

There were only seven or eight other people in the room, Veronica noted, looking around the immense space. It was a very large room, indeed, which is why it took her several seconds to survey it, to probe each corner and examine it's length and breadth.

At the very last, her eyes shifted towards the far end, coming to rest finally on the silhouette of a man standing beside the fireplace, his elbow resting on the mantel, stylishly dressed in unfamiliar clothes. But everything else about him was achingly familiar, from his rangy body to his dark hair to the warm brown eyes that were studying her so intently.

Veronica couldn't move, couldn't speak. Could hardly breathe.

"Hello, Veronica," he said softly, never taking his eyes off her.

"Logan," she said. She found it was all she _could_ say.


	7. Part II - Chapter 2

Part II - Chapter 2

_"Of all the gin joints in all the towns..._" Logan wasn't sure it really fit, but he loved his movie quotations so he figured he could make it work.

The _Casablanca_ parallel wasn't perfect, of course. For instance, there hadn't been a girl, no beautiful Ilsa, bravely sacrificing her personal happiness to help the war effort. No, there had only been Dexter Briggs and his gadget. But Logan often wondered where he'd be if Dexter hadn't come into that gin joint at just that particular moment. Often wondered how he would have survived. _If_ he would have survived.

For the first few weeks after Veronica left him, Logan had felt like he was sleepwalking. As if he'd simply forgotten how to live. He slept when he was too tired to stay awake any longer, ate when he felt a gnawing in his stomach, but otherwise, he just...took up space.

At first, he tried to avoid everything that reminded him of her, but it just wasn't possible. She was everywhere he looked, in every room of his house, along the beach where they'd walked for hours, in the flower boxes whose contents had withered and died because what was the point in watering them?

In the beginning, and for a long time afterwards, Logan had wished that he could wither and die, too. Everywhere he'd looked there was pain. He'd lost his child, the one he hadn't even known he'd wanted until it was on its way. And the love of his life had left with scarcely a word. He hadn't the smallest hope that she'd ever return.

But the human spirit is resilient, and the pain gradually began to recede, until one day it became...manageable. And Logan thought that he might want to live after all. He'd considered selling the house, but there didn't seem to be much point. There wasn't a chance that he could ever forget Veronica, or the child that had died, so he thought he might just as well remember them in the place where he'd been so happy.

When Dick finally got home after frittering away six months of his life, he spent weeks trying to coax Logan out of his house to play. He was only partially successful. He managed to coax him exactly two miles down the road, where Logan discovered the _Beachside_ _Tavern_, an establishment that he had never before set foot inside, but which quickly became his watering hole of choice.

Even though the clientele were mostly working class stiffs with absolutely nothing in common with the 22-year-old multi-millionaire, Logan soon began to waste time there on a regular basis. The bar's usual customers found him a little eccentric, and at first they gave him a wide berth. But that problem resolved itself very satisfactorily once he began every visit by buying a round for the house. A measurable increase in popularity soon followed.

For Logan, the _Tavern's_ main attraction was that its patrons had no earthly idea who he was. He was obviously a stinking rich oddball, but the _Tavern _had always been the kind of place that accepted oddballs of all stripes.

Like, for instance, Dexter Briggs.

Logan was sitting one night at what had become his usual table, when the door opened with a bang. Standing in the doorway was the nerdiest-looking guy that Logan had ever seen. And he was soaking wet. Which was odd, because it had finally stopped raining in Southern California.

"The goddamned Pacific Ocean is fucking cold!" the newcomer announced to the room in general.

And for the first time in a long time, Logan Echolls was amused.

"So do you often swim in," he paused to take a closer look at the man's sodden attire, "a business suit? Because unless that suit is made of some kind of miracle fabric, I think it's pretty much trashed."

The man moved further into the room, and Logan could see that he was shivering. Logan thought suddenly that this looked like someone who might be even more pathetic than he was.

"Hey, man," he said, "why don't you sit down here and we'll see about drying you off a little?"

"Hey, Jack," Logan called out to the bartender, "you got any kind of towels around here?"

The barkeep eyed the newcomer balefully, watching as he dripped seawater all over the hardwood floor, but he didn't want to do anything to jeopardize the large tip that he knew would be coming his way from Logan at closing. He fished out a half dozen bar rags from beneath the counter and tossed them over.

Logan pushed a chair out with his foot and said again, "Sit."

The newcomer blinked once, twice, and finally heaved himself into the chair. Logan pushed the bar rags in his direction, nodding that he should use them. The man picked up the top one and began to wipe off his face and hair.

"Now why don't you tell me what you were doing in the Pacific Ocean, in the middle of February, at," Logan glanced at his wrist, "eleven o'clock at night?" He smile slightly. "Wearing a suit."

The man set down the rag, looking a little chagrined. "It was stupid."

"Well, that part's obvious. But what was your particular brand of stupidity?"

"I was going to...kill myself."

"And what stopped you?" Logan asked. Considering his mother's unhappy end, Logan wondered why he didn't find this conversation more upsetting.

"It was too cold," came the response.

And suddenly, the two of them were laughing at the absurdity of the situation as the man picked up another rag and began again to dry himself off. Logan couldn't remember the last time he'd had such a good laugh. Or any laugh at all.

The man suddenly stuck out his hand. "Dexter Briggs," he said.

Logan took his hand, shook it, and offered, "I'm Logan. Why don't you tell me the rest?"

Dexter shook his head ruefully. "It's all about this," he said, taking off his sodden suit coat. From the inside pocket, he pulled out an object, and began to unwrap it from the multiple layers of plastic surrounding it. "I hope I haven't ruined it."

"What is it?" Logan asked.

"It's a tricorder." Dexter looked up at him defensively, as though expecting his next remark.

"A...tricorder? Like...in Star Trek?"

"Why does everyone ask that?" Dexter whined.

Logan didn't even attempt a response to that. "So what does this have to do with your midnight swim in the Pacific?" he asked.

Dexter sighed. "Okay," he said, "here's my pathetic story. Of course I know that a...tricorder is a fictional device. I just called it that while I was working on it. Because there is no name for this thing."

He looked to make sure that Logan was still paying attention.

"I've been working on this for years. Well, ever since I graduated from MIT. It's a medical diagnostic tool. It can be used to detect 15 different diseases, reads body temperature, blood pressure, pulse rate, and oxygen levels. All without ever touching the patient."

He looked up then, searching for a reaction.

Logan looked skeptical and intrigued all at the same time.

"And this...device...really works?"

"Oh, yeah," Dexter said. "It works. Five different pharmaceutical companies have tested it and agree that it works."

"Well, then," Logan was perplexed. "Seems like it would be kind of useful. Like maybe someone should start making them."

"You would think that, wouldn't you?" Dexter said. "And maybe I'm being selfish, but dammit! I spent so long creating this and I want to see it through." He paused at the deepening confusion on Logan's face.

Dexter sighed. "They all want the device. They've all been working furiously on their own versions, but they haven't been able to..."

He looked up at Logan. "I'm a selfish prick. I know it. But they just want to buy my patent and make the thing themselves. I know I should let them." He laughed at himself. "That's why I had it wrapped up in plastic. I figured they'd find it and use it after I was...gone."

Logan stared at Dexter for a moment. "You know you're nuts, right? Your body could have ended up anywhere. And that...thing would probably have been ruined."

He looked thoughtful. "So they all looked at it and wanted it, but didn't want you along with it. Is that it?" Dexter nodded.

Logan suddenly realized that for the past hour, while he'd listened to Dexter Briggs and speculated on whether his fantastic device could possibly work, he hadn't once thought about Veronica or their baby, or about how empty his life was. He'd been interested, engaged, even intrigued.

What the hell? he thought. It's better than sitting in this bar every night waiting to have a life. And what the fuck else do I have to do with my money?

"Okay," Logan said to a disbelieving Dexter Briggs. "What do you say we go make a whole lot of these things?"

He paused. "But first, let's change the fucking name."

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Logan gave the still-soaking Dexter a ride back to his motel and extracted a promise from him that he wouldn't leave Neptune until he'd heard from Logan. Dexter's face said he wasn't sure if this was on the level, but he was desperate enough to take the chance.

The next day, Logan put in a call to a surprised Keith Mars.

"Logan," he said, his tone uncertain. "How have you been?"

"Relax, Keith," he said. "This call has nothing to do with...her."

"No? Well, okay, then. What can I do for you?"

"I want to hire you. I've run into a little...business opportunity, but I need to have someone checked out before I decide whether or not to invest."

Logan gave Keith the particulars and asked for a complete rundown on Dexter Briggs as fast as he could get it done.

"What's the rush?"

"I don't know, Keith. I just have a feeling about this project, like it's something I'm meant to do. Hell, I've been sitting around feeling sorry for myself for months now, and I can't do that for the rest of my life. So, yeah, quick as you can."

"Logan..." Keith paused. "How are you...really?"

"I've been...better."

"Yeah," Keith said, just before he hung up. "Haven't we all?"

Logan was even more reluctant to make the next call, but he felt like he needed some technical advice and he knew this was his quickest option.

Mac's voice was wary when she answered. "Logan. This is a...surprise."

"Don't worry, Mac," he hastened to reassure her. "I've already figured out that...Veronica is probably with you...but that's not why I called."

"No?" Her voice was noncommittal as she waited for his explanation.

"No. I'm calling because you're the only computer genius I know."

Mac laughed. "Genius may be overstating it just a little. How can I help?"

As Logan told his tale to Mac, he realized how very odd it must sound. Guy in a bar, covered with sea water. Pulls miracle gadget out of his pocket. He began to feel more and more like a fool and his voice started to trail off. But then...

"Oh, my god!" Mac's voice practically exploded into the phone, as she barely waited for him to finish. "I just read about some bio-medical engineers who were trying to create something like this, and now you say you've actually seen a prototype?"

"Well, if it works...how can I find out if it's the real deal?"

"This one would be fairly easy because the end user is any kind of medical professional. Do you know someone you can trust to evaluate something like this?"

"I'll find one. Thanks. It's good to know I can still spot a whack job. And let's just keep this between us for now."

"Of course," she said. Then hurriedly, before he could hang up, "Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"How are...are you okay?" She sounded almost afraid to hear his answer.

Logan huffed a small laugh. "Everyone wants to know the answer to that question today, Mac. Including me."

He tried to give her an honest answer. "I'm...better than I was a couple of months ago, but not as good as I'd like to be."

Logan paused.

"And, Mac? Please don't tell her I called."

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Keith's investigation found that Dexter C. Briggs, MIT class of 2006, BS summa cum laude in Bio-Medical Engineering, was exactly who he claimed to be. Keith also had a contact in the medical field who agreed to test the prototype. And who afterwards wanted to know where he could buy one. A quick call to Cliff McCormack, and Logan was directed to a patent attorney who could ensure that the patent was securely in Briggs's hands.

Dexter moved into the beach house, and the two of them spent the next several months working on a business plan. Once assured that any further desperate nighttime forays into the cold Pacific waters would be unnecessary, Dexter threw himself into the project. He'd been thinking about it for years and had already worked out any technical problems in his head.

It proved to be just the distraction Logan needed, and he was surprised by how quickly it all came together. Manufacture, cost analysis, marketing, all were eventually checked off in his business plan. Since the device never actually came into contact with the patient, they were able to avoid many of the usual delays in the manufacture and marketing of medical equipment.

By late summer, they were ready to launch their product, and by end of the year, the Briggs Digital Diagnostic Device - or 3D - was an unqualified success and was soon in demand by medical professionals everywhere. Dexter moved out of Logan's and into the home he was able to buy with his first profits.

Logan gradually eased out of direct involvement with the company, preferring to remain a silent partner. When they toasted their success at their regular table at the _Beachside Tavern _and Dexter tried to express his gratitude, Logan told him quite truthfully that he was the one whose life had been saved the night they'd met.

"So what will you do now?" Dexter wanted to know.

"I'm going to look for my next adventure," Logan said. The next day, in a stuffy lawyer's office in LA, Logan Echolls Adventures, Inc, or LEA, was born.

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It was Dick who found Logan his next adventure, and at first, Dick wasn't very happy about it.

"I can't believe you're finally done with all that business shit so you have time to come surfing with me," Dick said as they carried their boards across the sand to a favorite spot.

"You know, Dick, most people would probably see 'that business shit' as earning a living."

Dick stopped in his tracks and looked at Logan like he was crazy.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Dick said. "Why the hell do you need to earn a living? You were already richer than god before you got hooked up with Mr. Nerdypants and now you could probably buy and sell half of Neptune."

Dick's voice showed his bewilderment. "But you never just, I don't know... just _play_ anymore. And now you got this new company. What's it called again...Leo?"

"LEA," Logan said, smirking. "Aw, is little Dickie getting bored all by himself?"

"Shut the hell up! I got all kinds of surfing buddies," he said, looking down the beach. "And there's one now!"

Dick started running across the sand. "Hey, Kyle, dude, where the fuck you been?"

Kyle turned when he heard his name.

"Hey, you still got that new kind of surfboard you designed? I want to show my buddy, Logan, here."

"Hey," he said, turning back toward Logan, "you're not going to believe this board Kyle made. He let me try it and it's sweeeet!"

"Yeah?" said Logan, shaking Kyle's hand. "Let me see this thing that's got Dick more excited than the last three women he dated."

Logan looked at the new board, and later on he tried it out. Then he had a question for Kyle.

"How would you like to make a lot of money?" he asked as they were having a beer at the _Tavern. _

Dick heard the question, looked at the expression on Logan's face, and immediately said, "No, no, no. No fucking way!"

But it was too late. Logan had found his next adventure, the first since he'd formed LEA. But this time, since it involved a surfboard and not some crazy-ass sci fi thingie, Dick not only got used to the fact that Logan was doing that 'earning a living' thing again, he eventually got involved himself.

After talking it over with Kyle, it was clear to Logan that the creation of custom surfboards would necessarily be a small, craftsman type of operation. He wrote up a business plan with that in mind, tailoring the manufacture and the marketing to an upscale surf shop that they would open once he found the right location.

Kyle already had a 'regular' job as a teacher that he didn't want to give up, and Logan didn't want to be tied down to the operation indefinitely. So six months later, to his everlasting amazement, Dick Casablancas found himself 'earning a living' as the proprietor and part-owner of _Surf's Up, _the trendiest new surf shop in Southern California.

After that, other LEA projects seemed to appear serendipitously, so that just as Logan would find himself done with one adventure, another would appear on the horizon. He couldn't say that life was good...but it wasn't terrible, either.

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LEA had been in operation for a couple of years when an adventure was brought to him by two very old acquaintances. Having either Wallace Fennel or Weevil Navarro appear at his door would have been surprising enough. Having them appear together was downright surreal. He hadn't seen either one since his graduation from Hearst three years earlier.

"Wallace," he said, "and _Weevs_." He looked them both over carefully. "This is, uh, more than a surprise. Are you sure you knew that this was _my _house?"

"Yeah, Echolls, we knew." Weevil turned to Wallace and said grimly. "This was a bad idea. Come on, Fennel, let's go." The former biker turned to leave, but Wallace grabbed his arm to hold him in place.

"Whoa there, homeboy, we can't leave without at least _tryin_' to get what we came for."

Wallace turned back to Logan with an apology and a look of determination.

"Sorry to drop in on you like this, but it was tough enough gettin' Keith Mars to give up your address. We weren't about to push our luck tryin' to get your number off him, too."

"Keith sent you here?" Logan was more and more baffled.

"Sent? Not so much. Look," Wallace was conciliatory, "I know we haven't exactly been your biggest fans, but something's come up and we're kinda out of options, so here we are."

"Right. You and Weevil are here. Together." Logan considered, and curiosity won out. "Anything that can bring you both to my doorstep, together, asking for my help, well, this I gotta hear." He opened the door wider. "Come on in."

Logan grabbed some beers out of the fridge and led them through the house to the back deck, where he'd installed a patio table and some chairs. "Have a seat," he said.

They all sat in silence for a moment, until Wallace finally cleared his throat.

"I hear you sometimes make investments in new, uh, technology. Stuff that maybe no one else is interested in, uh, funding." Wallace paused as if waiting for confirmation, but Logan just continued to suck on the micro-brew in his hand.

Wallace waited a few more moments before he inhaled deeply and said, "It's about helmets."

"Helmets?"

"Yeah, rich boy, helmets!" Weevil broke in. "You know, the headgear that's supposed to keep bad things from happenin' when kids play football. Except the ones they use at Neptune are pieces of shit! Not that the school board gives a damn. They ain't never gonna get better ones since there ain't no 09ers playin' football."

Logan thought that Weevil's hostility seemed to stem from something personal.

Glancing with concern at Weevil, Wallace looked back at Logan and explained. "Weevil's cousin got hurt a couple of weeks ago playing for Neptune." He paused. "Kid's still in a coma." He sighed. "Diego's a great student, and a football scholarship woulda been his way out."

Logan turned toward Weevil and nodded, but he had a faraway look in his eyes. "Sorry, Weevs," he said. "That really sucks."

Weevil was taken aback. He hadn't expected sympathy. He especially hadn't expected sincere sympathy.

"So," Logan thought he was starting to get the picture, "you want me to donate the money so Neptune High can buy the football team sturdier helmets? Is that it? Because that can probably be arranged."

This time, both Wallace and Weevil were surprised by Logan's willingness to help.

"It's not quite that easy," Wallace said. "The thing is, there are no better helmets, at least we can't find anything out there that's any safer."

At last Logan understood - or thought he did. "But you've come up with a better product?"

Wallace gave Logan a crooked little grin. "Not me," he said. "A guy I knew when I was still studying mechanical engineering at Hearst, before I changed my major to education. Greg Carter. Hell, the guy was a genius even then."

Wallace shook his head, remembering just how frustrating it had been trying to keep up with students like Greg. Thank god he'd changed his major because he loved teaching and he'd never been sorry that he'd taken a different career path.

He continued. "Anyway, Greg and I, we've kinda been keepin' up, and he called me right after Diego got hurt. He'd read about it and wanted me to know that he'd been workin' on the helmet problem for a while now, and he'd figured somethin' out, had the design for a brand new helmet already drawn up. Said I should see it. His helmet was gonna be stronger than the old ones, but still lightweight enough to be practical. Problem is, he can't get any of the sporting goods companies to even take his calls."

Wallace paused. "Then I was havin' dinner with Mr. Mars and, well, he told me you had this...company...where you sometimes invest in things that interest you..." His voice trailed away as he eyed Logan.

Logan's adventures had made him a lot of money over the past few years, money he didn't really need. But this one, he thought, this one was going to bring him a different kind of reward. He picked up his beer bottle and clinked it lightly against his guests' bottles.

"Gentlemen," he said, "you've come to the right place."

Logan was right about one thing. Of all the projects that LEA had funded, this one was by far the most rewarding. It took several months to complete the prototype, and Logan asked Dexter Briggs, bio-medical engineer, to consult. Within a year, the improved helmets were standard equipment in almost every school in the state. LEA donated the helmets to the Neptune High School football team.

Diego Navarro eventually regained consciousness and made a nearly full recovery, but he would never play football again. The dream of a football scholarship was over, but when he graduated a year later, Diego was the first recipient of the newly-created Learning is an Adventure Scholarship, and the first member of the Navarro family ever to attend college.

Weevil Navarro never again referred to Logan Echolls as "rich boy," or "white boy," or indeed, any kind of boy at all.

The first year that the helmets were used by the football team in the San Francisco suburb of Sausalito, a very promising player named Jamie Farnsworth was hurt during an exciting post-season game. The doctors told Jamie's parents that if he hadn't been wearing the new-style helmet, he'd very likely have had a serious head injury rather than just a bad headache.

Jamie's parents, Jim and Ginny Farnsworth, had enough money and enough clout to find out not only the name of the company that made the helmets, but also who was the man behind the curtain. They wanted to meet Logan Echolls, but were told that he liked his privacy. Some time later, Logan received a letter from the Farnsworths acknowledging a perceived debt of gratitude. "Any time, any place," it said. Logan was touched and kept the letter.

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Four years after the surf shop opened, business was so good that a group of San Francisco investors approached Logan through his attorneys with a proposition to franchise a Marin County branch of _Surf's Up._ A meeting had been set up at which Kyle was slated to represent LEA, but at the last minute he was required to attend a teacher conference instead.

"Dude!" Dick was perplexed when Kyle told him. "Why the hell are you still putting up with those snot-nosed brats every day? I know you earn enough from this place that you could quit."

Kyle chuckled and clapped Dick on the shoulder.

"I like teaching, Dick. I don't want to quit. Besides, you can go to San Fran in my place."

"_Me?"_ Dick was dumbfounded. Kyle wanted to send _him_ to a meeting with lawyers and shit? "Uh, Logan will never go for that."

"Hey, man," Kyle said, "it was his idea. So go pack a bag and I'll give you all the details."

Dick couldn't have known that there was a reason that Logan wanted to avoid the San Francisco area, and that he considered sending Dick just slightly better than sending no one at all. No, Dick took it as a vote of confidence in him, and vowed to himself not to screw up.

But Dick was still Dick, and responsibility was _not_ his middle name, so it wasn't surprising that he was rushing toward the doorway of a downtown office building, late as usual, when he suddenly stopped still right in the middle of the crowded San Francisco sidewalk.

It couldn't be, he thought. And yet it most definitely was.

"Ronnie!" he yelled, and a familiar blond head turned around, staring wide-eyed when she saw who'd called her name. The only one it could have been, really, who would call her by _that_ name.

"Dick," she said, a faint edge of panic in her tone. "What are you doing in San Francisco?"

"Hey," he said, somewhat exasperated. "Good to see you, too. Uh, Logan sent me up here because he couldn't come himself. Too busy."

"Logan," she said, her voice so faint he could hardly hear her. She cleared her throat. "How is Logan?" she asked.

"Oh, he's always so damned busy with LEA that I hardly get to see him," Dick grumbled.

"With...Leah?" Dick nodded, confirming. "Oh," she continued, her voice wooden, "I hadn't heard anything about Leah."

"Yeah, coming up on the four-year anniversary..."

"Look, I really have to go," Veronica broke in on his ramblings. She pivoted away, but then turned back briefly. "No need to tell Logan you ran into me, Dick," she said.

"If you say so, Ronnie," but he was already talking to her swiftly retreating back.

No problem there, Dick thought. Why should he mention seeing Ronnie to Logan, anyway? As far as he knew, they hadn't seen each other since the middle of senior year at Hearst. And the last thing he wanted for his best friend was to see him hurt all over again.

Dick hurried into his meeting and promptly forgot all about running into Veronica Mars.

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Five years, Logan thought. Five years since he'd created LEA, and nearly six since Veronica had left him. In many ways, it was hard to believe it had been that long, but in others, it seemed a lifetime ago. He considered that he'd built a pretty good life for himself. He had Dick, and Kyle, and Dexter. And, in one of those strange ironic twists that life sometimes throws at you, after they'd worked on the safety helmet project together he'd been able to reconnect with both Wallace and Weevil in a way that he never would have believed possible. Maybe they'd all changed, grown up enough to just let go of all that old shit.

He grinned to himself. Weevil called him "Logan" now when they played poker or went out for a beer. But somehow, he just hadn't been able to switch to "Eli." Nope. Weevil would somehow always be just Weevil.

Of course Weevil had a wife now. Logan had gone to the wedding. And Wallace? He had a girlfriend, and things had looked pretty serious the last time they'd all been together. But for Logan, after six years he was beginning to think that there was only ever going to be one woman that he could really love, and she'd slipped away forever.

Not that there hadn't been any women. There'd been plenty of women, but they'd all had a "sell-by" date.

After Veronica left, it had been months before he'd even been able to think about being with another woman, even just physically. Then another six months where the _only_ thing he'd wanted was a quick fuck and an even quicker goodbye. After a year, he'd finally begun to date casually, and then more than casually, but the relationships had never lasted more than a few months. Just long enough for the women to find out that he wasn't interested in anything long term. That he wasn't looking for a wife.

He could usually see the signs. They'd want to redecorate his house, or redo his wardrobe. Bring him potted plants. His current girlfriend, a party planner named Sabrina Colbert, had engaged in none of these activities so far. But after four months of semi-casual dating, he knew it probably wouldn't be long.

Tonight they were going to a party at Dick's house, which was either a short drive or a long walk down the beach. Logan thought he'd take the car tonight. That way, he could take Sabrina home without ever coming back to his place. He didn't feel like overnight company, and sometimes Sabrina wouldn't take "no" for an answer.

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As she sat in Dick Casablancas's plush living room, gulping a vodka tonic, Madison Sinclair wondered why the hell she'd even bothered to come. She'd run into Dick as she was leaving work, a dead-end job as an "associate" in a boutique where she used to shop when she was in high school.

Things had not gone well for Madison of late. Her modeling career had never really taken off and she'd been forced to take a series of what she thought of as menial jobs to support herself. Her parents had unenthusiastically allowed her move back in with them, but they wouldn't pay for her clothes or her makeup or any of her personal expenses. Madison sniffed. Of course that was still better than living in a dumpy apartment that wasn't even in the 09 zip code.

Nothing had seemed to work out with the men in her life, either. She'd lived in LA for a couple of years while she was trying to get modeling work, and she'd made some bad...choices there. But even after she'd returned to Neptune, nothing seemed to pan out. Her most recent lover had turned out to be married, a fact Madison had found out only by listening to her gut and following him home one night. She'd seen the silhouette of the wife - and the kids - in the window.

So when she'd run into Dick - sometimes she could hardly believe that blockhead had been her first boyfriend - and he'd told her about the party, she'd decided to come. At least there was plenty of booze, she thought, as she sat on Dick's couch downing her third vodka tonic and wondering if anyone even remotely interesting was going to show up.

She sat up a little when Logan Echolls walked in the door, but her interest faded immediately when she saw that he had a girl with him. Madison looked her over critically. Tall, slender, dark hair cut expensively in a chic bob. She watched as the girl clung to him possessively, and her mouth twisted into a wry smile.

Although she'd been happy to see him here, if only for the sheer novelty, Madison knew that she didn't have a chance in hell of ever attracting the interest of Logan Echolls. And as long as she was in this alcohol-induced state of honest self-reflection, she might as well admit to herself that she probably never had. She watched now as the latest wannabe simpered at him, and at the look he returned. Pleasant, attentive, detached.

Madison chuckled to herself. _The only difference between me sitting over here on this couch and the current hopeful over there clinging to his arm is that I already know damned well that Logan Echolls is never going to belong to me and she just hasn't figured it out yet._

Madison thought back to that day at the mall, when she'd run into Logan with the only girl she'd _ever_ seen his face light up for, and remembered those enticing glimpses of metal on their fingers. She hadn't thought about that day in years, but now she wondered all over again.

At that moment, Logan looked over at her and nodded coldly, while his companion glanced at her speculatively. Madison raised her glass and saluted them, before finishing off her drink and going back to the bar to make another. She decided that this had better be her last or she'd never make it home, and there was certainly nothing keeping her here, other than sheer boredom.

When she returned to her spot at the end of the couch, she found it already occupied by Logan's date. Madison looked at her quizzically before sitting down next to her.

"Sabrina Colbert," the girl said quickly, holding out her hand. Madison looked at that hand for a fraction of a second before ignoring it, nodding at the glass held by both her hands, and allowing, "Madison Sinclair."

Sabrina pulled her hand back, narrowed her eyes, and said, "Yes, I know. Logan told me who you were. That's why I wanted to talk to you."

"Oh?" Madison masked her very natural curiosity, maintaining her focus on the drink in her hands.

"You see, I've heard that you caused problems for Logan in the past when he was dating some other woman," Sabrina continued.

Madison's head came up. "Who did you hear that from?" She wondered which of her 09er "friends" had been trash-talking about her.

"It doesn't matter," Sabrina said. "What matters is that I'm letting you know not to try that with me."

"Not to try that with..." Madison threw back her head and let the laughter rip out of her. "Just what is it that you think I might get in the way of? Do you really imagine that you have some kind of _future_ with Logan Echolls?"

Madison cradled her drink in her hands and looked at Sabrina Colbert with pity.

"You're never going to _land_ Logan, and if you think you might then you're delusional. The only woman he ever really gave a fuck about is the one he married," she sneered.

"Married! He's never been married," Sabrina insisted, but Madison could see the uncertainty blossom in her eyes as she got up and walked away. "Just stay the hell away from him!" was her parting shot.

"Well, well," Madison muttered as she swallowed the rest of her drink. "Bet that's going to keep you up all night."

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_Married! He never said he'd been married. That hag was lying. Of course she was. This is what she does. This is what they were talking about. I don't want to ask around. I'll just look like a fool if it's true and I didn't already know. But of course it isn't..._

_But...maybe I should have Daddy check into it. I mean, lawyers can find out about shit like that, right? Then afterwards I'll tell Logan how she tried to break us up, and we can have a good laugh together._

_I've been wondering how to bring up the "M" word, anyway. It's about time I got some kind of commitment. _

Sabrina looked down at her left hand, imagining the huge rock that she was sure was in her immediate future, and smiled.

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It was three nights later that Sabrina showed up at Logan's house with fire in her eyes. He was surprised, because he was pretty damn sure he hadn't invited her.

"You son of a bitch!" she flung at him as soon as he opened the door. "Do you think you can treat me like I'm some bimbo? Make a fool of me?"

Her hand came up then, as though she were going to slap his face, but he was too fast for her, grabbing her wrist.

"Calm down, Sabrina," he said, holding her in place with both hands. "Now what the hell are you so worked up about?"

"Your marriage." She spit it out at him, and suddenly Logan felt like he couldn't breathe.

"How is that any of your business?" he'd dropped her arms then, and if Sabrina had known him as well as she thought she did, she might have been afraid of the expression in his eyes.

She was taken aback. "You think it's none of my business that my boyfriend is a married man?"

Logan could hardly get the words out, but since this was going to be the last time he would ever see this woman, he wanted this over and done with.

"Not _is_ married. _Was_ married. It was a brief marriage a long time ago, it ended in divorce, and yeah, it's none of your fucking business!"

He wanted her out, he wanted her gone, he wanted to shut the door on this painful conversation.

But Sabrina's expression had turned nasty now. "And now you're lying to my face! There was a marriage, but there was _never_ a divorce. I had my dad look it up in the court records. You just conveniently forgot to tell me that you were still married to Victoria or Veronica or whatever the hell her name is!"

"Shut up!" he roared. "You don't say her name! You don't even think her name!" Logan could feel himself losing control.

She suddenly caught sight of his face, and all the anger drained out of Sabrina. "My god," she said, "she was right, wasn't she? Madison was right."

"Madison?" Logan's head was spinning and he felt like he'd entered some alternate universe.

"Madison. From the party the other night. She's the one who told me you were married." Sabrina paused and shook her head. "You know what? You're pathetic. You can pine away for your dream girl all you want. Just leave me out if it."

Sabrina turned and moved quickly down the walk, but for a moment Logan was rooted to the spot. He finally closed the door and wandered back to the book he'd been reading, but there wasn't a chance in hell he was going to be able to read. Or eat. Or sleep. Or do fuck all until he found out if it was true.

Was it possible that he might still be married to Veronica?

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Cliff McCormack was surprised to see Logan standing outside his office when he arrived the next morning.

"Hey, kid," Cliff said, unlocking the door and ushering him in. "I haven't seen you in a while. Is there something I can do for you or is this just a social call?"

Cliff moved to the seat behind his desk but Logan remained standing by the door, silent.

"You're starting to scare me, Logan," Cliff said, "so why don't you just spit it out?"

Logan opened his mouth, but at first no words came out. He sighed, ran his hand through his hair, and tried again.

"Is there any chance...could it even be remotely possible that...Veronica and I are...still married?"

He'd gotten his question out, but just the asking of it seemed to have taken everything out of him, and he moved across the office and sank heavily into the chair across from Cliff.

Cliff was silent for a moment, a perplexed look on his face.

"Logan," he said finally, "where is this coming from? It's been almost," his eyes flickered and Logan could see him calculating, "six years."

Logan's face was devoid of expression. "It's just something...someone said to me. I looked through all my personal papers last night, but I couldn't find a divorce decree. I don't remember ever getting one, but that doesn't mean anything. I don't really remember much from those first few months after..."

Cliff sighed. "Yes, as I recall, you were paying close attention to your friends Jack, Jim and Jose, and not much else."

He got up quickly and made his way to some filing cabinets that were set along the far wall. "With the wonders of modern technology we can get this information online these days, but why don't I just make you a copy from my original?"

Cliff unlocked and opened the drawer marked "D-F," and began searching for the correct folder. "Here it is...Echolls..." When he opened the folder his brow puckered in confusion.

"Perhaps we should take advantage of those 21st century shortcuts after all," he said, replacing the file and returning to his desk to switch on his computer.

It took a minute to log into the Balboa County website and find the legal records section, and another minute to find "Echolls, Logan." But it took only seconds to determine that while there was a record of the marriage between Logan Echolls and Veronica Mars, there was no record that that marriage had ever been dissolved.

Cliff switched to the "M" section, and ran through the entire process again using Veronica's name, only to find the same results. He logged out of the site, sat back in his chair, and looked blankly at Logan.

"So...you can't find a record of the divorce?" Logan asked, shaking his head. "I don't get it. I signed those papers, and I saw that Veronica had already signed... I'll never forget that day." He looked up at Cliff. "It was the most miserable day of my life and it was raining like hell. Suited my mood to a T."

"Raining. Of course," Cliff said, his eyes drifting in memory. "It was the day of the floods, I had an appointment...and I asked my secretary to bring the documents to the courthouse." He looked at Logan. "But she did that for me all the time. It was part of her job."

"Then let's ask her about it," Logan suggested. "What time does she get in?" He turned his head in the direction of the outer office.

"Can't," Cliff replied. "That was Betty. She quit a couple of years later. Got married. Moved to Fresno,"

He thought for a minute. "I don't have anything going on today that can't wait. Let me go downtown and check everything out in person. I'll call you this afternoon."

And for the moment, Logan had to be satisfied with that.

But Cliff didn't call. Instead, he appeared in person that afternoon, and as soon as Logan opened the door and saw Cliff's face, he knew that his ordered life was about to get turned upside down.


	8. Part II - Chapter 3

Part II - Chapter 3

As soon as he saw Cliff McCormack standing on his doorstep, Logan knew that Cliff's visit to the county records office had not gone as expected.

"Would you happen to have any of that Jack or Jim or Jose handy?" Cliff asked, as he followed Logan into the house.

"How about a beer?" Logan countered, opening the refrigerator and extracting two brews.

"I suppose it will have to do," Cliff responded.

And for the first time since he'd met Cliff more than a decade earlier under less than ideal circumstances, Logan heard a hint of stress in his normally unruffled tones.

They sat out on the patio enjoying the warmth of a rare sunny day, a short break from the grayness that often dominated the weather in Southern California during the month of May. Logan waited with as much composure as he could muster while he watched Cliff fuss with his beer bottle.

"Cliff," he said finally, his patience wearing thin, "let's pretend that I'm a grown-up and can deal with whatever it is you're trying so hard not to tell me."

Cliff sighed. "I guess I deserved that," he said. "You know, k-, uh, Logan, it's possible that I may have occasionally skirted around the edges of standard legal practice, maybe split some hairs a little too finely to be what some people might consider strictly ethical..."

Logan's brow wrinkled as he interjected, "You're speaking to someone who's not exactly held the moral high ground in every situation, Cliff, so why don't you just let me have it?"

"Yeah, well...this was nothing like that. What I've _never_ done is to give my clients less than my best. But you...and Veronica...I let you down."

"In what way?" Logan asked quietly.

"Your divorce agreement was never recorded." Cliff sighed and shook his head, baffled. "No other document that I gave to Betty, or to any of my other secretaries ever failed to make it to the court. Why this one didn't get there, I just don't know."

"How do you know?" Logan asked. "I mean, how do you know that all the other papers and documents got where they were supposed to go?"

"Ah. And this is where I screwed up. Normally, I have a tickler file for things like that. The court records documents, keeps a copy online, and mails back the original. I have the tickler so I can keep track, confirm that the original documents are returned to me." He looked at Logan to make sure he understood.

Logan nodded. "But this particular document never came back and you didn't notice because...?"

Cliff shook his head again. "This certainly doesn't excuse my carelessness, but it was the flood. By the time I got in the next morning, I had water halfway up those file cabinets you saw in my office. Everything inside them was okay, but everything else was a disaster. It took me weeks to get the office back in order, and by the time I did..."

"You'd forgotten all about the divorce agreement for those two crazy kids."

Cliff looked as distressed as Logan had ever seen him.

"Logan, I'm sorry," he said. "I had a legal duty to make sure that agreement was filed with the court and I neglected to carry out that duty. You'd have every right to report me to the California Bar."

"Well, that's not going to happen, Cliff, so let's focus on the real problem here."

"I appreciate the clemency, Logan, but I think Veronica might not be so understanding."

"Why do you say that? She's known you since she was a kid. I mean, it was a mistake, but now we'll get it fixed, right?" Logan felt like he was missing something.

"If it were only that simple," Cliff said. "I'm afraid there are a couple of complications that I haven't yet shared with you."

"Oh?"

"Yes, well when we created the original agreement, you'd been married only about 3 months, and even with your considerable wealth, there hadn't been time to accumulate much community property. But since that divorce agreement was never filed, you and Veronica have now been legally married for almost 6 years, and a divorce might trigger some property issues."

Logan just nodded. "You know I don't care about that, Cliff. I'd be happy to share everything I have with Veronica," he said quietly.

"And you've already shared quite a bit with Stanford Law School. Which will all be taken into account."

Cliff stopped to finish his beer, but it was clear to Logan that he still had something on his mind.

"And..." Cliff began.

"And...what?"

"Logan...Keith just told me a couple of weeks ago that Veronica is engaged to be married."

Cliff watched as everything Logan was feeling flitted across his face. Surprise, pain, and finally, resignation. Damn, he thought, the kid's still in love with her.

Logan nodded again and asked calmly. "Is there a...wedding already planned?"

"No, she's only been engaged a short while, so..." Cliff shrugged.

"Do you...do you know this guy? Does Keith know him well?"

Cliff could see the concern in Logan's eyes.

"I'd never heard anything about him until Keith told me about the engagement. I think he's met the guy maybe two or three times."

Logan's eyes widened in surprise. "Who is he?"

"Name's Matthew Garcia. Apparently, he's a big shot lawyer in San Francisco." He paused, looked at Logan carefully. "You knew that Veronica..."

"You haven't given away any secrets, Cliff," he said. "I know that she's living in San Francisco, working in the DA's office. Seems fitting, somehow." His hand moved with a flourish as he wrote his imaginary headline in the air. "Veronica Mars, making lowlifes pay, one evildoer at a time."

He grinned suddenly. "Can you really imagine her working for one of those huge law firms, having to kowtow to people like me?"

Cliff eyed him thoughtfully. "I can't. And wasn't she fortunate that she didn't have to consider how low her salary would be compared to what she could be making at one of those big law firms? She could afford to take that job with the DA because she didn't have a mountain of debt when she finished law school."

Logan shrugged. "She deserved that, Cliff. I just wanted to take the pressure off, so that for once there'd be something in her life that she didn't have to worry about."

Cliff nodded his understanding. His news delivered, he got up to leave. "So I'll get in touch with Veronica..."

"No," Logan said.

Cliff stopped in his tracks. "No...?"

"I'm going to San Francisco, Cliff. I...want to tell her myself. And...I want to meet this guy she's...thinking of marrying. Make sure...just...make sure."

Cliff's face was a strange mixture of skeptical and sympathetic. "Do you really think that's a good idea, Logan? She may not have a very...positive reaction to the news."

Logan laughed. "Oh, she'll probably be pissed as hell. But I think it'll be okay, Cliff. It's been six years, and I'm pretty sure I can handle seeing Veronica again."

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Logan had eventually convinced Cliff that it wasn't a terrible idea for him to personally deliver to Veronica the news that they were still married. That he and Veronica could have a rational conversation. That it wouldn't all blow up in his face.

Now he just had to believe it himself.

Logan sighed, letting his mind go to a place where he didn't allow it too often: thinking about Veronica. He knew that another man might have let his anger and disappointment govern how he felt about Veronica after she'd left him so precipitously. But that would never be Logan.

It had taken him a long time and a great deal of introspection to even begin to understand everything that had happened. Not the event itself. He'd never gain enough perspective to understand why they'd had to lose their child in such a cruel way. But the pain he'd felt at that loss had eventually become manageable, a part of who he was, and in the end he'd learned to simply accept it.

No, what he'd finally begun to fathom was the aftermath. How they'd dealt with it. How _Veronica_ had dealt with it. He'd begun to understand how it must have seemed from her point of view. She'd put her heart on the line for this life they were building together, and when the baby died, she'd felt betrayed. Not by Logan, but by herself.

After everything that had happened to her in high school - and Logan didn't kid himself that he wasn't at least partially to blame for much of it - she had lived her personal life with with one eye on the exit. With one foot out the door. Never _all in_. Never with the confidence, the certainty, that life would take care of itself, that problems could be worked out, that she could relax and enjoy the things that most people took for granted. Kinship. Loyalty. Contentment. Love.

And then she was suddenly pregnant, and maybe it was the baby, maybe it was the idea that a new life was growing inside her, but somehow she'd found the courage to take that leap of faith with him. She'd walked into his bedroom and climbed into his bed and said: _I love you. I want to be with you. I can believe in happily ever after._

And then the unkind fates had shredded her to pieces.

Somewhere inside him, he knew that he'd never let go of the idea that eventually Veronica would begin to make sense of it, too. And that finally - inevitably - their paths would cross again and they'd have another chance to make it work.

He'd counted on that chance, because with understanding had also come an inescapable conclusion. For him, Veronica Mars, with her brilliance, and her beauty, and her suspicious, prickly, difficult, sensitive, passionate, loyal, and utterly compelling personality, was simply incomparable. For Logan, there was never going to be anyone else.

So he'd been brought up short by the news of Veronica's engagement. Matthew Garcia. Cliff hadn't said so directly, but his description of a successful San Francisco lawyer conveyed the picture of someone who was a little - or a lot - older than Veronica. He debated with himself but eventually decided to find out what he could through a simple Google search.

Garcia was a very common Latino surname, so it took Logan a while to sift through the possibilities, but when he found the San Francisco law firm _Matthew_ _Garcia_ _and_ _Associates_, he knew he'd found his man. The firm's website had a picture of Garcia, and Logan found that his assumptions had been correct. Dark-haired, good-looking, but definitely north of 40.

It was when he'd backed out of that entry and was about to close his laptop that Logan found a link to a short article in the _Examiner_ from just a couple of weeks ago. "Prominent City Lawyer Running for AG."

"Prominent San Francisco attorney Matthew Garcia has announced his candidacy for California Attorney General. While Garcia has never held public office, he is well-known in San Francisco legal circles as the man who made it out of the _barrios_ of East LA to become one of the most successful attorneys in Marin County.

"Everyone loves a rags-to-riches story, and Garcia's is more compelling than most. Raised by his grandmother, Garcia's diligence in school brought him to the attention of his local priest when he was in his early teens. He attended St. John's Preparatory School on a church-sponsored scholarship, and then won scholarships to UCLA and later attended Law School at Berkeley.

"Garcia began his legal career at _Cain and Harrison, _later _Harrison Harrison and Garcia._ Five years ago, both Harrisons having left the firm, it was re-named _Matthew Garcia and Associates_. Garcia's marriage to the former Madeleine Harrison ended about the same time as the law firm changed hands. Garcia has one child, a daughter, Evangeline Garcia-Harrison, 20."

Logan closed his laptop, thinking furiously. Two ideas stood out. The first was that it seemed like this time Veronica had chosen a man who was as different from Logan as she could find. Was that a good part of Garcia's attraction? That he wasn't a white, entitled jackass, living off inherited wealth? Logan hoped that wasn't him any longer, but he knew that at one time that description had fit him to a T.

But it was the other thing that really had him flummoxed. Veronica as a political wife? Attending events with Garcia, playing the "little woman"? Perhaps adapting her life to his? It didn't sound like the Veronica he remembered at all, and it made him wonder. Veronica had had many interests, but politics had never been one of them.

Logan had initially toyed with the idea of approaching Veronica directly, but after reading that article he changed his mind. He wanted to know a lot more about Matthew Garcia before he talked to his...wife.

He briefly considered calling Mac for information, but he rejected that idea almost immediately. Mac had been nothing but kind to him and he refused to put her in the middle. He racked his brain for someone who might be able to help, but Logan lived privately by choice, and his circle of even casual acquaintances was limited.

Privately. That word rang a bell, and he suddenly remembered the Farnsworths in Sausalito. Their son had been hurt playing football and the LEA football helmet had saved him from severe injury. They'd wanted to meet Logan, but he'd had his lawyers tell them he preferred his privacy.

He'd thought that would be the end of it, but they'd actually written to him. The husband - Jim? - must have a few connections to have even found Logan's address. And they'd written him a letter, rather than simply showing up at his door, so he credited them with a certain amount of sensibility and discretion.

_Wasn't Sausalito a suburb of San Francisco?_

A quick look through his files and the letter was in his hand, and it was filled with expressions of gratitude, just as he'd remembered. _If they could ever do anything for him,_ they'd said. _Any_ _time, any place,_ they'd said. They'd included their phone number.

Maybe he could grant them their wish.

Logan sighed. He hadn't had to turn on the vaunted Echolls charm in a while, but he knew he'd have to proceed carefully. He needed information but he didn't want to give himself away.

Ginny Farnsworth answered the phone herself. "Hello?"

"Hi, is this Ginny? Ginny Farnsworth?"

"Yes?" She was understandably tentative.

"Uh, this is Logan Echolls. I'm not sure if you remember, but you wrote me a very kind letter a couple of years ago..."

"Is this really Logan Echolls? I was beginning to think you were just a name, that you didn't really exist."

Logan laughed. "Well, the last time I looked in the mirror, I think it was the same old face staring back at me."

"I'm sorry," she said. "That was a stupid remark, but I just can't believe that you're calling after all this time."

"It has been a while, I know. Uh, how is your son doing? Jamie, isn't it?"

"He's doing great. No more football, of course. We had to put our foot down there. But he's at NYU now, loves New York. Wait till I tell him I actually spoke to Logan Echolls!"

"I'm really happy to hear that, Ginny. I'm sorry I wasn't able to meet with all of you at the time. I...hope you'll forgive me. I've had a few bad experiences over the years with people not being what they seemed. It's made me a little...extra-cautious, wary even. I...wouldn't want you to think it was anything...personal."

Ginny laughed. "We didn't take it personally at all. You're allowed to have your eccentricities, Mr. Echolls. But...it sounds like you may have changed your mind. Did you have a particular reason for calling? Because if there's anything we can do for you, well, our offer still stands."

"It's Logan, Ginny, just Logan. And yes, I did have a reason for calling." He hesitated, wondering how to phrase his request for information.

"I've been reading..." and that was not a lie, "about a lawyer in your area who's a candidate for Attorney General. And I...wondered if you knew him. Matthew Garcia."

Her answer was immediate. "Matthew? Well, of course we know Matthew. In fact, Jim has been thinking of backing his candidacy with more than just his opinion. Is that why you're asking? Are you thinking of becoming a major contributor as well?"

"Uh, well...I'm not really sure."

"Then you certainly must meet Matthew. Jim and I think a lot of him. He's really a remarkable person."

Remarkable? Well, if he'd convinced Veronica to marry him, Logan could believe he had to be extraordinary in some way. He knew he'd missed a few words when he heard Ginny say "...one night next week if you can make it."

"I'm sorry, Ginny," he apologized, "What was that again?"

"I said, Jim and I were thinking of having a small dinner party for Matthew. I thought perhaps...well, if you think you could get up this way, we could plan for one night next week. Then you could meet Matthew yourself."

Ginny laughed. "And of course that would give _us_ the chance to meet the elusive Logan Echolls."

Logan could hardly believe his luck. He planned to suspend his elusiveness immediately.

"Let me just check my calendar, Ginny," he said, with an affability that wasn't at all insincere.

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Logan hadn't been back to San Francisco since 2010, and he'd briefly wondered how Veronica could live in the same place where they'd suffered such a terrible loss. But then San Francisco was a very large city, and she was unlikely to have occasion to visit San Francisco General Hospital.

Ginny Farnsworth's dinner party was scheduled for Thursday, so Logan flew up that morning and booked into the St. Regis. He was prepared to face San Francisco, but he doubted he'd ever be able to set foot anywhere near the Four Seasons.

By the time he entered the Farnsworths' Sausalito address into the GPS unit in his rented car that evening, Logan was having second thoughts about this dinner. From the safe distance of his home in Neptune, it had seemed like a good idea to check out Veronica's...fiancé without Garcia knowing who he was. Unless Veronica had told him about Logan, about their marriage. The baby.

But she wouldn't have. He'd bet his life on it.

He turned the car onto the Golden Gate Bridge and drove across the bay into the trendy suburb of Sausalito. Logan knew he was a little early, but he wanted to be sure that he arrived before Garcia.

When she'd called to confirm, Ginny had mentioned that Garcia had a fiancée, but that he wouldn't be bringing her, and she'd asked Logan if he'd like to bring a date himself. Or a wife, perhaps? Logan had answered in the negative, but the unintended irony in that question had reminded him once again how delicate the situation really was.

He probably should be handling it differently, he thought, as he drove through the darkening streets. No, he _definitely_ should be handling it differently. He should have arranged to speak to Veronica directly, not initiated this stealthy glimpse into her personal business. When she found out, and she would, she was bound to be angry.

But he simply couldn't be sorry. As far as he could see, it was kismet that he'd found out that they were still married at _just _the moment when she was about to marry someone else. They should have been divorced years ago, he'd thought they had been, but somehow they weren't. He was still her husband, and before he relinquished that status, he had every intention of discovering why Veronica had made such an unlikely choice as Matthew Garcia.

Soon he was pulling into the Farnsworths' street, and then into their driveway, and then it was too late to put a halt to the farce that was about to play out. As he turned off the engine and exited the car, he acknowledged to himself that he wouldn't stop it even if he could.

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He was the first to arrive, Ginny Farnsworth told him when she opened her door.

"It's wonderful to finally meet you, Logan," she said, shaking his hand and ushering him into a large living room.

It wasn't the biggest such room Logan had ever seen. He had, after all, grown up in the Echolls mansion, and had had free rein of the Kane house for many years. But despite its size, this room had a warmth that those houses had never managed to achieve. Logan took a brief look around and a longer look at his hostess's cheerful face, and felt immediately comfortable.

"Well," Ginny said, amused, "do we pass muster?"

Logan was a little chagrined to have been caught so obviously sizing up his surroundings.

"Sorry," he said, his smile genuine. "I don't get out much."

"I find that hard to believe." Ginny responded as the two made themselves comfortable on an enormous couch that had been placed in front of a huge stone fireplace.

"Anyone as young and good-looking as you...and as unattached..." she raised her brows, making it a question, and he nodded, "...surely must be in demand."

"I've, uh, been concentrating on my business for the last few years," he said. His grin became a smirk. "And I didn't say I was a monk."

Ginny laughed. "I've only known you for five minutes, Logan, but I'm prepared to believe that statement."

They were interrupted then by the appearance of Ginny's husband, a tall hatchet-faced man who seemed to tower over Logan as he stood to greet his host.

"You're a lot younger than I expected, Logan," Jim Farnsworth said, shaking his hand. "But then everyone's beginning to look young these days."

"Tell me," he continued, "how did you hear about Matthew Garcia way down there in Neptune? I thought most of you folks in SoCal thought that everything north of LA was wilderness."

Logan laughed, because in many ways, Jim wasn't far off the mark. "I think I must have read about his...amazing rise from humble beginnings. A regular Horatio Alger story." Logan hoped the Farnsworths missed the sardonic note he was unable to keep out of his voice.

"That's very true. He's worked hard and I respect that. It's one of the reasons I chose him to handle all the legal mumbo-jumbo when my development business started taking off. Ginny checked around and helped me make the right choice."

Farnsworth looked at his wife fondly. "I was a lot luckier than Matthew in that way. His marriage didn't seem to stick somehow." He raised his eyebrows. "But I hear he's taking another stab at it, got himself a beautiful _young_ fiancée. Too bad she couldn't make our little party tonight. I've been wondering about the woman that Matthew Garcia might find appealing enough to marry."

Logan was musing over his certainty that if Farnsworth ever met Veronica, he would no longer be wondering, when Ginny's next statement pushed everything else out of his head.

"Oh, didn't I tell you, Jim?" She turned to him suddenly. "Matthew called this morning and his fiancée can make it after all."

"Fantastic!" Jim was enthusiastic about this turn of events. "What's her name again?" he asked.

"Veronica," his wife replied. "Veronica Mars."

_What the fuck! I'm not ready for this._ Logan did his best to conceal his reaction from the Farnsworths, but his heart began to hammer as he suddenly grasped that within a very few minutes he and Veronica would be face to face for the first time in nearly six years. He hadn't expected it, and his head began to pound when he understood that he wasn't at all prepared.

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The other guests began to arrive, and Logan did his best to mingle, but he was feeling more and more nervous about his deception. He'd wanted to surreptitiously get a feel for what Matthew Garcia was all about, but with Veronica's imminent appearance, that plan was shot straight to hell.

Logan excused himself from one of the other guests, and moved towards the back of the room. He was leaning against the fireplace mantel trying to decide if he should find Ginny, make up some excuse, and leave, when the front door opened again and he saw a blond head on a petite frame cross the threshold. He knew immediately that it was far too late to do anything but let the scene play out.

He watched Veronica as she entered the room and glanced around, her eyes taking in every detail as usual. His heart was beating wildly. To say that she was as beautiful as ever would have been a lie. She'd always been beautiful. Even at 12, she'd been beautiful. But this fully matured woman was so stunning that every head turned immediately in her direction.

Logan held his breath, waiting for her to find him, and it didn't take long. His body felt a jolt at the exact moment her eyes locked on his and he heard her give a little gasp. Without conscious thought, he moved towards her and spoke.

"Hello, Veronica," he said softly.

For a split second, he wondered if she was even going to respond.

"Logan," she said, acknowledging at last that he was there.

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Veronica was completely focused on maintaining her composure, on staying upright, on continuing to breathe. On not pinching herself to make sure that she was really awake. Logan...here? He couldn't be, and yet somehow he was. Beside her, Matthew was looking at her curiously.

"Veronica?" he said quizzically, and she felt him stiffen when she failed to respond immediately.

She knew she should say something, do something, but she couldn't seem to gather her wits. And Logan was staring into her eyes and smiling as if the sight of her was the one thing that was keeping the breath moving through his body and the blood flowing in his veins. Just as he always had. And she, dear god, was reacting just as she always did.

Veronica was soon in full panic mode. _How can he still do this to me after six fucking years?_

His impatience evident, Matthew held out his hand. "Matthew Garcia," he said, and Logan responded in kind, finally wrenching his attention away from Veronica and thrusting out his own hand.

"Logan Echolls. I'm an old...friend of Veronica's."

Veronica could see him searching Matthew's face for some sign that Matthew recognized his name, but she'd never told Matthew about Logan. She knew she'd have to mention something about a "brief early marriage" eventually, but she'd never intended to provide any details. Or any names.

Veronica suddenly recalled something else and her stomach clenched.

"Uh, is Leah here?" she asked Logan. Her chin lifted as she asserted, "I'd like to meet her."

"Her?" Logan responded, his brow wrinkling.

Veronica let her impatience show. She really wanted to get this meeting over with.

"Yes, Leah, your...?" Veronica was at a loss, didn't know what the woman's...status...might be.

Logan simply looked baffled. "My..._business_, you mean?"

Veronica was equally confused. _What business?_

This exchange had not gone unnoticed by their hostess, as the astute Ginny Farnsworth began to have some inkling as to why Matthew Garcia had caught the attention of Logan Echolls. And there was something, she thought, a little odd about that conversation.

"Logan's promised to tell us all about LEA at dinner," she said brightly. "What is it again that LEA stands for?"

"Uh, Logan Echolls Adventures." He smiled wryly at Veronica. "Somehow that made it sound a little more exciting than Echolls, Inc, or something equally boring."

Veronica couldn't believe it. All this time, since she'd run into Dick that day over a year ago, she'd thought that Logan was...was...

But, no, it wasn't a woman he had but a business! One that was apparently so unusual that he was one of Ginny Farnsworth's "intriguing finds." Veronica felt irrationally angry. All this time she'd pictured him an idle surf bum, living off his inherited wealth, carousing with "Leah," and now there _was_ no Leah. Instead there was LEA.

They soon sat down to dinner, and at his hostess's request, Logan explained about the birth of LEA. About meeting Dexter Briggs in the bar, quickly glossing over why he himself had been there. It was only the briefest of flickers in her direction that let Veronica know that this must have been only a short time after she'd left and that he'd been drowning his sorrows.

"This is the guy who saved Jamie's life," Jim Farnsworth interjected when Logan paused for breath.

Logan demurred modestly. "That might be overstating it a bit, Jim," he said. "It was Greg Carter who worked for years perfecting that helmet, not me."

"Yeah, but you're the one who provided the funds to manufacture them. And your company gives a lot of them away to poorer school districts." He paused. "_And_ you donate your share of the profits to the Brain Injury Foundation."

Logan's mouth dropped open. _How the fuck did he know that?_

Jim just laughed. "Didn't think anyone knew about that, did you?"

Veronica sat with her mouth agape, wondering how she could have thought that Logan wouldn't have grown up, that he wouldn't care about more than himself. She'd always known what he was capable of.

"Well, we also have some _fun_ adventures_._ The company owns a state-of-the-art surf shop in Neptune. An old friend of mine, Dick Casablancas, runs the place. In fact we opened a branch not far from here last year." Logan smirked at Veronica's small gasp when he mentioned Dick's name.

Veronica watched as the Echolls charisma poured out of Logan, as the other guests listened, fascinated, and as the original purpose for the dinner was completely forgotten. But the man sitting beside her hadn't forgotten, and she could feel his temper mount at being upstaged.

Logan finally stopped regaling the others after his third or fourth tale, and sent a pointed look of apology in Matthew's direction.

"But I think we've forgotten why we're all here tonight. I'd like to hear more about Mr. Garcia's plans for the Attorney General's office."

And now Matthew was furious. She could sense it radiating off him. She knew it would seem to him that he was being condescended to, that Logan Echolls had tossed him a bone, that the rich entitled white guy was now going to allow him to speak. And every one of Matthew's buttons would be pushed. When she glanced at Logan's face, she wasn't entirely sure that that wasn't exactly how he'd meant it.

Veronica had had enough and she rose abruptly. "I'm so sorry," she said. "I have to be at court very early tomorrow." She looked at Matthew. "I'll take the car back. I'm sure you can get a ride into the city." She looked around at them all, smiling.

Logan was on his feet in an instant. "I'd be happy to take you home," he offered.

Veronica was sure a look of horror crossed her face as she contemplated an hour alone in a car with Logan. She wasn't ready. She wasn't anywhere _near_ ready. Panic began to set in again.

"No!" she said quickly, then tried to soften it. "I wouldn't dream of taking you away from this beautiful dinner." She thanked her hosts graciously and turned toward the living room where she'd left her small clutch bag, Matthew following. Logan was right behind him.

"Leaving before dessert, Mars," he said with a smile. "That's not like you."

Veronica couldn't help her answering grin. "There's always ice cream at home," she said.

Matthew Garcia saw and heard the exchange and wondered. It wasn't the words; they were innocent enough and spoke of old friendship. It was the looks, the smiles. Veronica suddenly looked like a kid as Echolls ribbed her about her sweet tooth. _Who was this man? What had he been to Veronica?_

"Veronica," Echolls was saying now. "I really need to talk to you. Do you think maybe we could have lunch together tomorrow? Or dinner?"

"I'll be in court all day, Logan. Lunch isn't really an option. Dinner..."

"Look, if you have something that you need to discuss with my fiancée, I'd certainly like to be present." Matthew couldn't keep the stiffness out of his voice.

Veronica turned on him suddenly. Her look was unreadable, but Matthew was sure he'd never seen it before.

"Matthew," she said, "Logan is an old friend," emphasizing the word 'friend'. "We don't need a chaperone."

Matthew searched for an acceptable solution and finally issued an invitation. "Why don't you come to dinner at my home tomorrow night? We can...get to know one another. And you can say whatever it is you need to say to Veronica."

He could see the flicker of annoyance in Echolls's eyes. He didn't like it, but he'd have to accept it.

"I'm at the St. Regis," he said finally. "Just leave me a message with the details and I'll be there."

_The St. Regis?_ That was unexpected, Matthew thought. But perhaps no more unexpected than everything else about this evening.

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By the time Veronica got home, she knew that sleep was going to be elusive. It was fortunate that the Patterson trial was essentially over. Otherwise, she'd be seriously concerned about her ability to be an effective prosecutor. And that wasn't something that Veronica took lightly.

Earlier in the evening, she hadn't been able to stop thinking about Logan. About everything that had happened between them and everything that had happened afterwards. And then, suddenly, there he was. It was as if she'd somehow known all along that he'd be there.

And why the _hell_ was he at that dinner, anyway? Veronica didn't believe in coincidence. Okay, he knew the Farnsworths. But it was supposed to be a dinner for Matthew, and Logan had never had any interest in politics.

Had Logan known about her relationship with Matthew? About her engagement? But why would he care? He had his own relationship.

_Except that he didn't._ She thought back to that brief conversation with Dick, and how crushed she'd been. _Four-year anniversary, _Dick had said. And she had thought...had come home, and thought, _he moved on four fucking years ago and I can still hardly go out with another man_.

And tears that she hadn't wanted to shed, that she'd told herself she was a fool to shed, had fallen in spite of her best efforts to stem them. _She'd_ left _him, _after all. And as always, she'd had to remind herself, _You can't have it both ways, Veronica._

She'd dried her eyes resolutely, and the next week she had gone to dinner at Len Rosetti's. And met Matthew.

Veronica tossed and turned for an hour, finally giving up. She got up and made herself a cup of tea, and curled up with it in the corner of her living room couch. And recalled, once again, everything that had happened that evening. Everything about Logan.

He'd looked the same - and yet...different. His face had matured, and the vestiges of youthful roundness that it had carried for years had finally disappeared. He'd been dressed far more casually than the other men in a trendy suit with an open collar. But he'd still looked...elegant. She could tell that he was in shape. Logan was always in motion, so she was sure that he still surfed and perhaps he ran as well.

Veronica herself loved to run, but Matthew never had time to go with her, preferring to take his exercise at the gym in small, scheduled doses. Logan had always hated going to a gym and exercising in public. Veronica grinned. But she wouldn't put it past him to have had a gym installed in his house.

She didn't even know if he still lived in that house. Didn't know anything about him really.

Except that there was no Leah. There was only a thriving business called LEA that sounded...extraordinary.

And there was the way he looked at her. Which was...exactly the same. As though he were pouring his soul into his eyes.

And there was how she felt when he looked at her. Which was...exactly the same.

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By the time he got home later that evening, Matthew Garcia was furious. Who the fuck was this Echolls? It had taken him years to find Veronica. Someone who was smart and beautiful, who didn't expect him to fall at her feet with protestations of love.

Someone who didn't expect him to provide her with children. Didn't even seem to want them, really. It made no difference to him which it was, as long as he wasn't expected to father any more. Hadn't he learned already that one was more than enough?

And most importantly, someone who was going to help him become California's next Attorney General. That was...imperative. He couldn't think about what might happen if he was unsuccessful.

Matthew Garcia never went into battle unprepared, and his weapon of choice was information. He picked up his phone and placed a call.

"I don't give a fuck what time it is," he said to the person who answered. "As far as you're concerned, it's morning. I need some information on a guy named Echolls. Logan Echolls."

He paused, listening.

"No, I don't know how the fuck to spell it. I pay you enough. Figure it out. And I want this no later than tomorrow afternoon. Wait, I guess that would be _this_ afternoon," he said, finally hanging up.

Whoever the fuck this Echolls was, he'd have to be dealt with. Veronica was essential to his plans. He didn't have time to start all over again.


	9. Part II - Chapter 4

Part II - Chapter 4

There had been times when Veronica had railed against the prevalence of plea bargains in the criminal justice system, that vengeful part of her always wanting to extract the maximum amount of retribution for any crime. But that Friday morning, after a nearly sleepless night, Veronica felt ragged.

So when she arrived at the courthouse for what she had thought would be the last day of trial and was told that the defendant, Mr. Patterson, was willing to plead to voluntary manslaughter, Veronica rejoiced. She hadn't been certain of winning this one; the evidence had been highly circumstantial. But apparently Mr. Patterson had decided not to take his chances with the jury.

Veronica was so tired that she would have fallen asleep during Patterson's allocution if one of her colleagues hadn't jabbed her with his elbow. A lot of paperwork followed, and then finally it was over.

It was nearly noon by then, but for once Veronica wasn't hungry. In fact, her stomach churned as she thought about that evening's dinner with Matthew. And Logan. She needed some rest. She needed a nap. She needed to go into hiding.

Veronica sighed. She knew that last wasn't going to happen, but it was possible she could manage to get Len to let her take the rest of the day off so she could get some much-needed sleep. As it turned out, her boss wasn't hard to convince, especially when he saw how worn-out she looked.

"Great job, Mars," he said. "I wasn't sure we had enough evidence for a conviction, but I guess you scared Mr. Patterson so much he was afraid to take his chances with the jury."

He winked at her, but this was definitely a case of the truth spoken in jest. Len had seen Mars in action in the courtroom, and he was consistently amazed that someone who was so small in stature and who looked like she should be on the red carpet instead of in a courtroom, could be so damned intimidating. She was always sure of her facts, she never backed off, never got ruffled, and saw right through obfuscation and evasion.

In short, Len Rosetti had no doubt that Veronica Mars was a born prosecutor, and he was damned glad she'd picked Marin County to take up the charge.

But today, she definitely looked a little the worse for wear.

"So am I gonna have to call Garcia and tell him to ease back on the late nights? You look like crap, Mars." He smirked at her as she sat with her head in her hands.

"Well gee, thanks, _Dad_, that's just what a girl wants to hear." Veronica gave her boss a quick smile. "You can't lay this on Matthew, Len. I just didn't sleep well last night."

Rosetti's right brow quirked up in surprise. "You, Mars? I thought you always had your life under control?"

For just an instant, an expression crossed Veronica's face that Len Rosetti had never seen there before. A little sad, a little afraid...and then it was gone, and she smirked back at him.

"A girl, and by that I mean a very successful prosecutor girl, could use a little time off," she said, her head tilted just so.

Rosetti had seen that head thing before and knew when he was beaten.

"Pack it in, Mars," he gave in gracefully. "We'll see you on Monday."

She grinned at him, batted her lashes, and said fawningly, "You're just the best boss ever."

Len sighed. "Yeah, right. I always am when you get what you want."

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Matthew Garcia had also endured a night in which sleep had been elusive. He had pills in the medicine cabinet for these rare episodes of insomnia, but Matthew hated to take them. He would swallow one only when it was absolute necessary, when business demands required that he be alert the following day, when he couldn't afford to give himself time off. But last night had not been such a night.

At 4AM, after several hours of frustrated tossing and turning, Matthew had left a message on his secretary's phone asking her to cancel that day's appointments, then managed to drop off just as the sky was lightening. After four hours of uneasy sleep, he finally dragged himself out of bed, only to find that he had a new problem, and she was sitting at his kitchen island, drinking coffee and eating cold cereal.

"Daddy! Finally! This must be the first time in the history of the universe that I got out of bed before you did. Are you sick or something?" She looked at him speculatively. "Unless of course you couldn't stand to leave your bed because that blonde you've been shagging is still in it."

Eyebrows raised, she smirked at him, waiting for the embarrassed anger she was sure she'd provoked.

But for once, Evangeline Garcia-Harrison had read her father wrong. He was too busy trying to come to grips with fact that his difficult daughter had put in an appearance to worry about one of her signature outrageous remarks.

"Evie," he said, "what are you doing here?" Dammit! He did not need any other complications right now. Madeleine had promised him she'd keep their daughter out of the way at least until after the primaries.

"Duh, I _live_ here?" Evie continued spooning the contents of the cereal bowl into her mouth. "And listen, can we get some Fruit Loops or something? This granola shit seriously sucks."

Matthew sighed. "Evie, can you try not to be quite so vulgar?" He reached for a K-pack to brew himself a cup of coffee, and felt the first stirrings of pain behind his eyelids.

Evie quirked one eyebrow as she finished the last spoonful of cereal. She got up from the stool and dropped her bowl and spoon into the sink with a clatter.

"So nobody can say 'shit' in this house now that you're running for office?" She turned from the sink and gave him a sly grin. "Or was it the 'shagging' comment that you objected to?"

Things never changed, he thought, quickly losing patience with his daughter. "I sent you to London to absorb a little culture, maybe acquire a cosmopolitan patina, but the only thing you seem to have learned is the British slang for..." He stopped suddenly.

Evie's eyes glinted and her mouth quirked as she leaned against the sink, arms crossed in front of her. "For what, Daddy? British slang for what?" she asked, challenging him to finish his sentence.

Matthew ran his hands across his face. He was tense, exhausted, and now he had to deal with his recalcitrant daughter. He took a quick sip of his coffee, hoping the jolt of caffeine would calm his nerves.

"Is there a particular reason why you came home just now, Evie?" he asked. "I thought your mother told me you wouldn't be back until late summer."

"Well, I got bored, okay? Can't I just come home if I want?" Her chin rose in defiance and she banged her coffee mug onto the counter. "Maybe I want to meet this...woman...you're planning to marry."

"You have met her. When you were here for the holidays."

"Yeah, but she was just one of your women then, not my new 'mommy-to-be'. Or did you plan on keeping us apart until you got her down the aisle?" Her mouth twisted in hurt. "Don't want to scare her off by subjecting her to the 'wayward daughter'."

"Of course not..." he began.

"Well, where is she then?" Evie demanded. "Is she still in your bed?"

"Evie!" Matthew snapped, finally provoked to his limit. "That's enough! You know very well that Veronica has her own apartment. But right now, she's probably in court."

"Well, when will I get to see her, then? Don't you want to give us a chance to bond?" She was equal parts petulant and mocking.

"Tonight," he finally conceded. "She's coming for dinner tonight." Too late, he remembered who else was coming to dinner. "With an old...friend," he added as though it were an afterthought.

"Oh, goody," Evie said, rolling her eyes, as she flounced out of the room. "_Two_ of them. I can hardly wait."

With a sigh, Matthew picked up his mug from the counter. "I, too, can hardly wait," he muttered, sipping his coffee.

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"You could at least have given me some warning, Madeleine." He could hear the frustration in his own voice as he spoke to his ex-wife. He was sitting in the reading chair in his bedroom, the only room in the condo in which he could be certain he wouldn't be interrupted by Evie.

"This is really not a good time for a visit," he said directly. "I have neither the time nor the patience to rein in every one of her outrageous impulses."

He paused, sighing, listening to her litany of excuses.

"How unsuitable was he?" he asked. Matthew wondered how it was that his daughter inevitably attached herself to the least acceptable man in any room...and in any town. "You're supposed to be keeping an eye on her, not running around Europe with your boyfriends..." He wondered why he even bothered.

His phone beeped to alert him that he had another call, and he checked out the caller ID.

"Look, Madeleine, I have another call coming in, but this conversation is not over." He sighed. "I'll get back to you early next week."

Matthew switched to the new caller.

"So what did you find out about Logan Echolls?"

When Matthew hung up the phone several minutes later he leaned back in his chair and tried to piece it all together, tried to make sense of it. Because it was nothing like what he'd expected.

He'd expected to find that Echolls was an old friend, or even an old boyfriend. He hadn't expected to find that at one time Veronica had been near the very center of a maelstrom of scandal and controversy.

He supposed he should have remembered the name Echolls. It was an uncommon name, and Aaron Echolls had not only been a famous movie star, he had also been accused of murdering his son's girlfriend. The same son that Matthew was expecting for dinner that evening.

Matthew remembered the case now. Aaron Echolls had been acquitted, but later he'd either been murdered himself or committed suicide. The authorities had never been able to agree one way or the other. The mother was dead, too, a presumed suicide, because her body had never been found.

And then there was the money. He'd inherited from both parents and had been orphaned and a multi-millionaire by the time he was eighteen. And with the money, and that upbringing, and all the scandal, Logan Echolls _should_ have been the most fucked-up _culo _in Southern California. But somehow he wasn't.

Sometime after college he'd started that business, LEA, and every fucking thing the guy invested in had turned into a goldmine. It just proved what Matthew had known his whole life: the rich just kept on getting richer, and everybody else stood in line for the scraps.

Matthew had known that Veronica was from Neptune, but he knew she'd had a middle-class upbringing. So he would never have imagined that she'd mingled with a software heiress or the son of movie stars, that the murdered girl, Lilly Kane, had been her best friend, or that she'd dated someone like Echolls in high school, and then again when they'd both been at Hearst. Matthew wondered why she'd never told him about it.

Surprisingly, beyond the barest of information, his investigator was unable to find out much about Echolls's current personal life. But he'd found any number of people who would talk about his business ventures, about LEA, usually to sing the guy's praises. Matthew had smiled cynically when he'd heard that. He knew from long experience that there were unpleasant skeletons in everyone's closet. And if he found he needed to put more effort into this investigation, he had no doubt he could find the ones that lurked in the back of Logan Echolls's wardrobe.

Matthew pondered how all this might relate to Veronica's life today, but he could see no connection at all.

He didn't give a damn if she'd been at the periphery of a notorious murder case a decade ago. She'd had no culpability, and it had left no taint on her. It didn't affect who she was now, the woman who had graduated near the top of her class at Stanford and who, according to Maggie Rosetti, was a rising star in the District Attorney's Office.

Neither did he give a damn if the son of two movie stars had been an old flame. Echolls still lived in Neptune and Matthew knew that Veronica hadn't been back there in years, so any attachment between them, any adolescent infatuation, would have been over and done with long before he himself met Veronica.

No, Veronica was still suitable, which was a relief because he needed this to work out with her. Matthew doubted that he would be able to find another woman on the planet who met his requirements so perfectly.

So there remained only one minor irritation with tonight's dinner party, one small prick to his pride. Matthew was used to being able to impress his guests with his condo on Nob Hill, with its full-time concierge, and it's panoramic view of the city. But he knew that nothing he had, nothing he owned, was ever going to impress Logan Echolls.

He could live with that, he decided, because after tonight, he didn't expect to have to see Mr. Echolls again. He would come to dinner, say whatever it was he needed to say to his old friend Veronica, and then disappear from their lives forever.

Matthew Garcia picked up his glass of very old, very expensive, single malt whiskey, and toasted Logan Echolls's imminent departure from his life.

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Veronica had managed a couple of hours sleep that afternoon, and she'd woken up with a renewed purpose: to protect the life that she'd so carefully constructed. She had a job that she loved, she had a few friends that she enjoyed, and she had Matthew. A man she could be with who would ask nothing more of her than she was willing to give.

Matthew demanded fidelity, but not undying love. He wanted a physical relationship, but could live happily without real intimacy. He required her presence when the occasion demanded it, but he didn't want to own her soul. Veronica knew that she could meet those expectations and still retain a part of herself that was hers alone. A safe place, where no one could hurt her.

So she'd awoken with every intention of getting Logan Echolls out of her head once and for all. She couldn't afford any more sleepless nights.

She decided to get to Matthew's early so that she could explain about Logan. Not everything, of course. At one time, she'd envisioned telling Matthew that she'd been married briefly. But she had never intended to provide details, not even about who it was she'd been married to. _Most especially about who I was married to._

Now that he'd met Logan and there was every chance he might connect the dots, she'd changed her mind. She was determined to retain at least that much privacy and besides, the marriage had been so brief. And of course there would never be a need to mention...

Veronica inner voice stopped at the same place that it always did. The words wouldn't come, even inside her head, so there was no chance she'd be telling Matthew anything he didn't need to know.

She shook her head. After all, she wasn't planning to keep him completely in the dark. She could certainly explain about Lilly. About Aaron Echolls. Everything that had happened a decade ago was part of the public record anyway, so with Matthew running for office, it would be best if he knew before some zealous reporter dug it all up.

Determination in every step, Veronica was feeling refreshingly open and honest by the time she got out of the cab at Matthew's building that evening. She waved to the concierge, rode the elevator up to the penthouse condominium, and used her own key to open the door. Only to have the wind taken out of her sails by the sultry brunette lying on the couch in the living room.

"So I guess I'm not surprised that Daddy gave you a key," Evie said by way of greeting, a sly grin in place. "It must make booty calls a whole lot more convenient. I mean, you certainly couldn't expect him to take himself off to whatever hole in the wall you call home."

Veronica's lips pressed together and her eyes narrowed. "Nice to see you, Evie," she said as pleasantly as she could manage, sitting down on a nearby chair.

Matthew appeared, carrying a bottle of wine and some glasses, and Evie's expression challenged Veronica to rat her out to her father, to repeat to him what Evie had said to her. But Veronica was ever adept at playing the long game.

"Oh, I see I don't need to reintroduce the two of you," Matthew announced to the room at large, the relief in his voice palpable.

"No need at all, "Veronica said pleasantly as he kissed her cheek. "Evie is not someone I'm likely to forget. I have a pretty good memory for faces...and for conversation."

"Attributes that are no doubt useful to a prosecutor," he said, opening the bottle and pouring a small amount of wine into one of the glasses, swirling it around the bottom.

Evie eyed Veronica closely. She remembered the doll-like appearance, but she certainly didn't remember the sharp claws or the pointed remarks.

"Where are you going, Evie?" her father asked in surprise, as she slid off the couch and turned toward the hallway. "I thought you would want to have a glass of wine with us."

"Gotta change, Dad," she said, waving a hand at him as she disappeared from the room.

When Matthew turned back toward Veronica, he could scarcely ignore the raised brows and the quirked mouth. He sat on the couch his daughter had just vacated and sighed in frustration.

"She was supposed to stay with her mother in London for at least a couple of more months, but she was sitting in the kitchen when I got up this morning." He explained, his expression conveying that it had not been a pleasant surprise. "I spoke with Madeleine, and apparently Evie became...involved with a very unsuitable man. Madeleine thought the best solution would be to send her to me."

He continued, annoyed. "Of course it never occurred to Madeleine to ask if it was convenient, or at least let me know..."

"Matthew," Veronica finally broke in. "I don't care that Evie's here. This is her home, after all. I just wonder why you didn't give me some warning."

Matthew was somewhat taken aback. People rarely criticized his actions. Or inactions. Not even Veronica, although he'd known for a long time that she was extremely direct, and unlikely to hold back if she felt strongly about something.

He was displeased by her attitude, but neither did he want to provoke her. And perhaps she was at least partially right.

"I'm...sorry, Veronica. I didn't sleep well and I've had a busy day. But I should have made it a point to let you know." He wondered when the last time was that he'd actually apologized to someone.

"Okay," she said, prepared to be conciliatory, since she had her own agenda and wanted to get it out before Evie returned to the room.

"Matthew," she began, "you, uh, may have wondered how it is that Logan Echolls and I know each other." She looked down at her hands, took a breath, looked up, smiled slightly. "The fact is that he's...an old boyfriend. I haven't seen him since...we graduated from Hearst. We, uh, went to high school together, too." It was close enough to the truth to serve, she decided.

Veronica studied Matthew, trying to determine how he was reacting to this information, but his face told her nothing.

"Something...horrible happened when we were in high school." Veronica paused, folded her hands together to keep from fidgeting. "A...murder. Logan's...father was Aaron Echolls, the movie star. He...he killed my best friend, Lilly Kane. Lilly...at the time, Lilly was Logan's girlfriend. It was a terrible ordeal for all of us."

Veronica paused now that she'd gotten the worst out. "Logan and I didn't start dating until long after that. We dated off and on toward the end of high school and at Hearst, but nothing...nothing ever came of it."

She stopped and looked at Matthew for a reaction. He nodded.

"I'm a little surprised to hear you say that the movie star killed your friend," he said. "Wasn't he acquitted of that murder?"

Veronica's eyes narrowed suddenly, and her mouth hardened. "I could have sworn that last night you had no idea who Logan Echolls was," she said carefully, "much less who his father was. Or anything at all about his murder trial."

"You're right," he said, "I didn't. But I like knowing who's coming into my house."

"So you had him...Logan...investigated?" Her voice rose and her manner was decidedly frosty.

"I wouldn't say 'investigated'. I had him...looked into," Matthew equivocated.

"Is there a difference? You might have just asked me, Matthew."

"And would you have told me?"

"I just did, didn't I?" Veronica's tone was curt.

"But I don't think you've told me everything."

Veronica paled suddenly. "What...what do you mean?" Her eyes looked wary.

"You didn't mention that the father was subsequently murdered or that the mother had committed suicide," Matthew said, and for a second he could have sworn that she looked...relieved.

"No, I never got that far, and besides those things had nothing to do with me."

"And the murder case...the arrest of Aaron Echolls...that _did_ have something to do with you?"

"Yes, it did," she said, her chin coming up stubbornly. "I'm the one who figured out who killed Lilly. And I don't care what the verdict was, Aaron was guilty."

Matthew just stared at her. _She_ figured it out? But she couldn't have been more than 17 or 18 at the time.

Evie returned to the room just then, and the discussion was necessarily suspended. Matthew took a good look at his daughter and groaned inwardly. Whereas before he'd thought her attire of jeans and t-shirt a little too casual for dinner, this new outfit was daring in the extreme. Matthew knew it was supposed to be a dress, but it hardly seemed to cover enough of the lower part of her body to warrant that description.

Short, tight, low-cut. He sighed, knowing he probably wouldn't be happy when he saw the charge on his Amex bill, either.

"Is this what you wear for a family dinner, Evie?" he demanded. "How is this...dress...appropriate?"

"Really, Daddy?" she said with a smirk. "It's Friday night. Did you think I was going to hang here all night? Melissa's picking me up later. We're going to a club."

The doorbell rang just then, and before anyone else could move, Evie said, "I'll get the door. That must be your friend, Veronica. Maybe she'll like my dress."

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When Logan alighted from his taxi and entered Garcia's building carrying a bottle of what had always been Veronica's favorite Cabernet, it was clear that the concierge had been told to expect him. He was shown to the correct elevator and the proper button was pressed for him. Top floor, Logan noted, the penthouse condo. Obviously Attorney Garcia would settle for nothing less than the best.

Logan smiled wryly at the thought and shook his head at himself. The man was, after all, engaged to Veronica.

When the elevator reached the top, he saw that there was only one door on that floor. He'd barely pressed the bell when the door was opened by an attractive girl whose brunette waves cascaded past her shoulders and whose dress was so short that he wondered how she would be able to sit down without revealing territory that was better left uncharted.

"Weeeeell," she said when she saw him standing there, her grin showing a beautiful set of what were probably very expensively-straightened teeth. "And who might _you_ be?"

Her smile widened when she saw his answering grin.

"I was just going to ask you the same question," he said. "It's possible that I'm at the wrong condo."

But then the door opened wider and Garcia appeared, an expression of annoyance on his face.

"Mr. Echolls," he said somewhat reluctantly, "I'd like to present my daughter, Evangeline Garcia-Harrison."

"Oh, Daddy," she said, rolling her eyes and holding out her hand to Logan. "Hi, I'm Evie Garcia. And you are...?"

"Logan Echolls," he said, shaking her hand.

"Here, Daddy," she said, relieving Logan of the bottle of wine and handing it to her astonished father. Then she looped her arm through Logan's and pulled him into the room.

"So..._you're_ Veronica's old friend?" she asked, quirking a brow as if not quite believing it.

"I am," responded Logan. "Is she...?" But before he could finish his question, he saw Veronica standing just a few feet away in black slacks and an off-the-shoulder red sweater, an outfit that was far sexier, he thought, than the revealing one on the girl standing beside him. His breath caught as he recognized once again how beautiful Veronica had become.

Veronica flushed at his expression, and Evie eyed them quizzically, but Garcia appeared not to notice anything amiss.

"Hello, Veronica," Logan said, his mind still reeling from the fact that he'd now had occasion to use that phrase twice in the past two days.

"Hello, Logan," she responded tentatively, as though she, too, were having trouble accepting that they were really in each other's presence again after so many years apart.

"Ah, now that you're here, I think we should eat immediately," Garcia announced suddenly. "The caterer left everything in the oven, so we just need to remove it and serve."

He smiled suddenly, playing the gracious host, and Logan realized it was the first time he'd seen Garcia smile since they'd met. He wondered fleetingly if his own presence had somehow soured Garcia's mood, or if the man was just naturally dour.

The condo was designed in the very modern open concept style, and had no separate dining room, but a small round table had been laid for four near the end of the room that was closest to the kitchen. Logan shot an amused glance at Veronica as Evie pulled him toward the dining table.

"Here," she said, "sit next to me." Evie favored him with another huge smile that he was sure she had employed often to get exactly what she wanted.

Garcia moved to the chair on Logan's left, leaving the seat across from him empty for Veronica. Logan wasn't sure which was going to be the greater torture: the fact that she was too far away to 'accidentally' touch, or that he'd have to look at her directly for the entire time they'd be dining.

Garcia eyed his daughter and said, "I could use your help with the serving, Evie."

"What are we having, Daddy?" Evie asked, rising. "It smells really good."

Garcia smiled, certain that he'd made the right choices for his impromptu dinner party. "Veronica never turns down Italian, so I thought we'd have a couple of her favorites."

Father and daughter moved into the kitchen area to retrieve their dinner, and Garcia called back confidently, "We're having lasagna, and for dessert, tiramisu."

Veronica gave her head a little shake and looked down at her plate, wondering what cruel god of irony had prompted Matthew to choose that particular menu. But then her head came up and she found herself searching Logan's face because it suddenly became important to know if she was the only one who remembered.

When he smiled at her softly, she could see that they were both reliving the same memory, and she couldn't help returning his smile.

When Veronica's eyes dropped to her left hand, Logan was certain that she was seeing not the enormous glittering rock that sat there today, but the flat platinum band with the tiny diamond chips that she'd twisted and turned around her finger all the way through their simple wedding dinner.

"Veronica," Logan said, his voice barely a whisper, and without thinking he stretched his hand across the table toward her. But before he could touch her, Veronica jumped up and excused herself, practically running towards the bathroom.

Evie brought in the the food and began to serve it while Garcia uncorked the Cabernet and poured it into their glasses. When she returned a few moments later, Veronica had regained her composure and she smiled at her fiancé and studiously avoided Logan's gaze.

"It looks delicious," she said.

"So, what do you do, Logan?" Evie asked him, demanding his attention, just as he was shoveling a forkful of pasta and cheese into his mouth. "Or do you do nothing at all but sit around looking hot?" She practically purred at him.

"Evie!" Her father nearly choked on his wine. "Behave yourself."

"Oh, Daddy, I'm sure it isn't anything Logan hasn't heard a million times before," she said, with a wink and a shrug in Logan's direction. And while the others were occupied with her brazen question, under cover of the tablecloth Evie was busy stroking up and down the calf of Logan's right leg with the edge of her very expensive designer shoes. For the moment, Logan gave up any pretense of eating.

She was right. He _had_ heard it before, all of it. He'd had women throwing themselves at him since he was in his early teens. He'd never been sure if it was his famous name, the millions in his bank account, or just his personal appeal that drew women to him, but it had become something he'd gotten used to dealing with.

But these days, most of the women who came onto him were a little older than Evie, and none tried to hit on him with their fathers sitting three feet away. So despite his years of practice in fending off advances, while Logan was amused, he was also just a little bit embarrassed. His brows quirked and he shot a smile over to Veronica, sure that she'd be amused, too. But there he found he was completely wrong.

Veronica looked nothing like amused. Veronica looked pissed. Veronica looked...jealous?

Logan's heart began beating faster when he realized that jealous was _exactly_ how she looked.

Garcia failed to notice Veronica's expression as he poured the last of the wine that Logan had brought into her glass. "I'm sure I've got some more Cabernet in the other room. Will you excuse me?" he said, rising to fetch another bottle from the supply he kept on racks in his home office.

Evie took advantage of her father's temporary absence to return her attention to Logan.

"So," she said with a smirk, her hand reaching out to stroke his arm. "I'll bet you do something really exciting for a living?"

Logan laughed. "I hate to disappoint you, Evie, but I actually own a business."

"I'll never believe it!" she teased. "Businessmen are fat and pompous and can't possibly be any fun."

"Well," he said, "not every part of my business is boring and stuffy. Have you ever tried surfing? My company owns the most rad surf shop in Southern California."

"Duuuude!" she laughed, drawing out the word. "You surf?"

"Since I was a kid," he assured her with a smile.

"Logan," Veronica broke in suddenly. "I was surprised to hear that Dick was actually running the surf shop and not spending all his time surfing and chasing t...uh...women."

"He's surprisingly good at it, Veronica. He has a way with people." He gave a little laugh at her look of disbelief, and conceded. "Well, with _most_ people. Even Dick had to grow up sometime."

"Funny he didn't say anything to me about it," Veronica muttered, her brow wrinkling slightly, then she looked up quickly as if realizing what she might have revealed.

Too late. Logan had heard her and was looking at her quizzically. "Say anything to you...when? When did you see Dick?"

"I...ran into Dick not far from the courthouse last year. He said you'd sent him here because you were too busy to come yourself."

"Too...busy?"

"Yeah," she said, picking up her glass of wine. "Dick said you were busy with LEA. That it was your 4-year anniversary." She set her glass down and tried to avoid his eye.

Logan's head was spinning as he finally made sense of her remarks to him the previous evening. She had run into Dick last year, and from whatever Dick had said, she'd thought that _LEA_ was _Leah_, and that Logan had had a 4-year relationship with a woman, which would have had to begin...

As Logan did the math, his stunned eyes held hers. "So," he said carefully, "you heard about the 4-year anniversary of LEA and thought..."

He could see the mottling on Veronica's face as she finally caught his eye and flushed with embarrassment. Logan's mind reeled at the implications of this revelation. Was this before she'd met Garcia? Did it have anything at all to do with...?

Garcia returned then with another bottle of wine, but Logan was thinking so furiously that he barely heard him. He forced himself to focus; he could sort out everything else later.

"So your company seems to deal with a lot of very diverse products," Garcia said politely.

Veronica added with a smile, grateful for the change of topic, "I kind of wondered where you got the idea for the helmets. You've never really been a football fan."

Logan quirked a brow at her. "Now that's the one adventure I thought you might have heard about," he said.

When Veronica just looked at him blankly, he said, "Wallace never told you?"

Veronica was startled. "What does it have to do with Wallace?"

"Wallace was the one who brought me the project." He grinned suddenly, knowing what her reaction would be to his next disclosure. "Wallace and...Weevil."

"Weevil!?" Veronica expression was everything he could have hoped for, and Logan laughed softly.

"What the hell kind of name is Weevil?" Evie asked, injecting herself into the conversation.

"Evie, language!" Her father closed his eyes, sighing.

Veronica answered her question. "It's a...nickname. His real name is Eli." She turned to Logan. "You've been in touch with...Weevil?"

"Weevil's cousin got hurt playing football and Wallace's friend had designed a new helmet. They came to me with the idea and...I ran with it."

Logan looked at her oddly. "You do still see Wallace, right? You're in touch?"

"Yes, of course," she said, "but we never talk about...Neptune."

_Why do I think that what you're _really_ saying is that you never talk about Logan_?

"Well," he said aloud. "Weevil and Wallace each own 5% of that part of the business. Kind of a 'finder's fee'. I thought Wallace might have mentioned it because I'm pretty sure he's planning to buy a house with his profits."

"You...keep up with Wallace?" she asked faintly.

"Veronica," he said quietly, "we're all friends. Wallace and Weevil and I. We have poker nights and barbecues. I went to Weevil's wedding last year."

Veronica looked stricken, and Logan felt as though he'd taken something away from her. But he knew that the only thing he'd really done was to force her to alter her perceptions about people - and relationships - that she'd thought were immutable. Wallace and Weevil? Wallace and Logan? Weevil and Logan? He could see it all dancing around in her head just by the expression on her face. But he couldn't help her.

The doorbell rang suddenly and Evie jumped up. "That must be Melissa," she said.

"Where is it that you're going, Evie?" her father asked.

"Really, Daddy," she tried first, and then, reading his expression, "dance club with Melissa," she threw over her shoulder on her way to let her girlfriend in.

"Don't worry," she added when she saw his expression, "I'll get an under 21 wristband at the club door."

Evie slung a small purse over her shoulder and was almost out the door when she ran back with a request for Logan that was accompanied by her brightest smile.

"It was so great meeting you, Logan," she gushed. "Uh, do you have a card or something, just in case I run into a, uh, business opportunity you might be interested in."

Logan smiled at her and quirked an eyebrow. "A business opportunity, huh?" he said, fishing a card out of his wallet and handing it to her.

"Thanks," she said, putting the card away in her purse. Then she was swooping in to kiss his cheek before running out the door with her friend.

Logan laughed and shook his head, Matthew Garcia closed his eyes in embarrassment, and Veronica Mars looked like she'd swallowed a goldfish.

"Why don't we have coffee and dessert in the living room and Logan can tell us whatever it is he came here to say," Matthew suggested almost as soon as the door had closed behind his daughter.

He rose quickly, clearly expecting the other two to follow him to the seating area across the room.

With a quick glance at Veronica, Logan rose also. "I think perhaps I'll decline on both counts," he said. "Dinner was great," he added politely, "but I'm watching my waistline." His trademark sardonic smile was in full evidence.

Veronica was still seated, and Logan pulled out his phone and handed it to her. "Why don't you just key in your number, and I'll call you tomorrow?" he said. Veronica took the phone and silently entered the digits, then called herself so she'd have his number, too.

But Matthew Garcia was not used to being ignored. "What the hell is going on, Echolls?" he asked, his displeasure evident in his tone. "You came here to discuss something with Veronica, and now you're leaving without speaking about it?"

"No," Logan responded, and the genial tone he'd used all evening had all but disappeared. "That's why _you_ invited me here. _My_ reasons for coming were entirely my own. And any conversation I have with Veronica will be in private unless she says otherwise," he added, glancing at Veronica, who handed his phone back to him wordlessly.

"That is completely unacceptable," Garcia fumed. "I've been more than reasonable about this, but I simply won't have another man..."

Veronica got up so fast that her chair nearly tipped over behind her. "You won't have another man _what_, Matthew? Talking to me? Is that what you were about to say? That I can't have a conversation with an old friend without asking your permission? What comes next? Will you employ a _duenna_ to watch my every move?"

Logan stood there for a moment, amused, as Veronica slid effortlessly into full-on attack mode. It was clear from the expression on his face that this was a facet of her personality that Garcia had never encountered before. Then he moved toward the door, more than ready to leave before he said something unpleasant to Garcia himself.

Veronica followed in his wake, with Matthew on their heels, outraged that he'd lost control of the situation, until all three stood just inside the front entrance.

"An old friend? Is that the fiction you're trying to sell here, Echolls?" Matthew scoffed. The gloves were completely off now.

He turned toward Veronica, affronted. "Don't you see what he's trying to do, Veronica? He's trying to come between us. He's in the past. You're _my_ fiancée, now."

While Veronica had been angered by Matthew's attempts to bully her, she understood that he'd reacted that way because he felt threatened, so she consciously softened her voice and tried to reason with him.

"Matthew," she said, as calmly as she could manage, "if Logan has something to say to me, then I have a right to hear it, whatever it is. And if we choose to have our conversation in private, then you'll just have to accept that. I'm not a child, or a possession. You can't dictate my life."

But her words didn't have the desired effect. In fact, Matthew Garcia couldn't believe what he was hearing. "And this is the respect you show me?" he bit off, incensed that she could so completely disregard his wishes, particularly in front of..._this man_.

"I have a right, as your fiancé, to know what is going on in your life!" His voice rose as outrage overtook him. "I have a right to understand your...your relationship with any other man! I have a right as your fiancé to prevent another man from trying to take advantage of an old friendship to come between us! I have a right as your fiancé..."

And it was at that point that Logan Echolls had Just. Had. Enough. He'd spent years learning to rein in his temper. Learning to curb his impulses. Learning to think before he spoke, before he acted, before he did something the would surely set loose the hounds of hell.

But at that moment he was simply pushed beyond his limits. So although he knew that it would probably make things worse, and that Veronica deserved better from him, there came that split second where none of that mattered, because Matthew Garcua had uttered the words _'_your fiancé' _one_ _too many times_. And the voice in Logan's head and the blood singing in his veins were both shouting 'I don't give a damn'.

"Shut the fuck up!" Logan roared suddenly, turning on Garcia. The words practically exploded out of his mouth. "She's not your fucking fiancée! How can she be _your_ fucking fiancée when she's _my_ fucking wife!?"

Veronica gasped, and her entire body swung toward Logan.

Suddenly, there was dead silence.

Matthew recovered first and pivoted slowly toward Logan. "What did you say?" he asked, his voice a strange mixture of bewildered hostility.

"I said," Logan moderated his voice with difficulty as he felt Veronica's eyes boring into him, "I said that some people might find it a little...unorthodox...that you keep referring to her as your fiancée when she's still married to me."

"Is this true, Veronica?"Matthew demanded, turning towards her, his temper rising as he began to understand that she had hidden something of great importance from him. "Are you...are you...married to this man?"

Veronica's chin lifted. "It was a long time ago, Matthew," she answered, her voice hollow. "And we were divorced."

"Then why is it that Echolls claims you are still his wife?" His anger was palpable.

Veronica rounded on Logan, wordlessly demanding an explanation.

And now remorse was setting in, and Logan was almost as distressed as Garcia. _Dammit! How could I have let myself lose control like that? _

"Veronica," he said, "I'm...sorry doesn't even begin to..." He paused, ran a hand through his hair, and tried again.

"That wasn't exactly how I planned to break the news," he said, sighing, "but...the bottom line is that our divorce was never recorded. We've been legally married for nearly six years."

For just a moment, Veronica said nothing as she let that sink in.

"And you've known about this...how long?" she asked finally, her voice clipped, uninflected. In a heartbeat, she had moved into cross-examination mode.

"I found out last week," he said.

"How? How did you find out?"

"I'll be happy to tell you everything, Veronica, but do we have to do this right here, right now?" And in front of _this_ _audience_, he added silently.

She glanced at Matthew then as though she'd only just remembered where she was and who was present.

"Matthew," she said, turning to face him, "you have every right to be angry that I kept this from you, and I'll understand if you want to break our engagement."

"Veronica, no!" His answer was immediate. "This is just some kind of a...a technical glitch. We can get it straightened out..."

She frowned in thought, coming to a decision. "In the meantime," she said, "I'm not really comfortable wearing this. I don't have a right to it."

Veronica removed the ring with the enormous diamond from her left hand and placed it in Matthew's palm.

"But I just said..." Matthew looked down at his hand, bewildered.

"I'm not...breaking our engagement, Matthew. I...just now, I don't feel right about wearing your ring."

Before either man could predict her intentions, Veronica had grabbed her handbag and was out the door. Logan turned to follow her, but Garcia's hand on his arm stopped him.

"You're out of your mind if you think I'm letting you get away with this, Echolls," he said. "I know you have manipulated this situation somehow. Or at the very least you're using it to your own advantage. But Veronica will have my ring back on her finger as soon as she realizes what you're up to."

Logan glanced down at Garcia's hand on his arm. "I think you might want to remove your hand from my arm," he said, his voice dangerously low.

Garcia let go abruptly, as though Logan's arm were burning his fingers. Logan took a couple of steps toward the door, then changed his mind and turned back to face the other man, determined that he was not quite finished.

"You know, Garcia," he said deliberately, "you may think that you have some control in this situation, but let me tell you how it's going to play out. Veronica may decide that you're what she wants, in which case we'll spend some time straightening out our legal mess, and then you'll have your fiancée back. Or else she'll decide that you're _not_ what she wants, in which case you'll have to find some other woman to escort to all your political fundraisers."

He paused, hoping his words would sink in. "In either case, there's not going to be a fucking thing you can do about it, because Veronica Mars makes her own decisions and runs her own life. If you don't know _that_ about her, then you don't know anything."

Logan opened the door then, but as he'd expected, Veronica was already gone.

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Veronica huddled on the sidewalk outside Matthew's building, trying to gather her wits. The events of the last couple of days had left her bruised and battered emotionally, and by now she simply didn't know what to think.

She and Logan were still married. That's what he'd said. _Still married._ He hadn't known either, he'd said, not until last week. But...how? How had it happened? How was it that he'd found out _now_? Veronica shuddered to think that she might have married Matthew, not knowing she was still married to Logan.

That's what was bothering her, wasn't it? That she might have unknowingly entered into a bigamous relationship? It couldn't be anything else.

Veronica wrapped her arms around herself. She knew she couldn't just stand there forever. She needed to find a cab, get home...

"Veronica?" She'd never heard him approach, didn't know he was there until he was standing right next to her.

His voice was soft, but then it always had been when he spoke to her. She turned to face him.

"Veronica," he said again. "I can't tell you how sorry I am. I never meant to blurt it out...like that..."

"But that's why you came to San Francisco, isn't it, Logan? To tell me. Your being at that dinner last night - that was no coincidence." Her voice was soft, too, as she searched his face for the truth.

Logan sighed, admitting it. "It was no coincidence." He paused. "Look, Veronica, can't we meet tomorrow sometime, so I can explain everything to you? I know I owe you that. More than that."

His eyes pleaded with her.

"I can't...I can't think right now," she said, fatigue and distress rendering her incapable of even the smallest decision. Her face softened as she looked at him. "I'll call you tomorrow and we can...decide then."

She sighed. "But right now, I need to go home and sleep."

"Did you come by taxi?" he asked. When she nodded, he stepped closer to the curb and hailed the next empty cab to take her home.

Veronica got into the cab, surprised when Logan closed the door behind her. "But...aren't you coming?" she asked. "You don't have a car here, do you?"

"I'll get the next one," he said, pausing for a moment. "I'm pretty sure that what you need the most right now is some space to process...everything."

He was right, of course. He still knew her well. But..."Just a moment," she said to the driver, stepping out of the cab and back onto the sidewalk to face Logan.

"I won't be able to sleep, Logan, if I don't at least say this. I should have reached out to you years ago. Called. Or written. Something."

Veronica took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. "Thank you," she said.

Logan smiled at her, but his eyebrow quirked inquisitively.

Veronica returned his smile. "For Stanford," she said. "That was such an incredibly generous thing for you to do. And at first, I was so...angry." Her smile softened. "But...I shouldn't have been. I know you did it because you wanted to make my life easier. And you did. So thank you."

Logan smiled down at her and, on impulse, Veronica reached out and softly touched his hand. It was just a light stroke across his palm, but Logan caught his breath in surprise. It was the first time she'd touched him in nearly six years and for a moment neither of them could move, or look away, or even breathe.

Then Veronica shook herself a little, stepped back into the taxi, and was whisked away into the night.

And Logan was left standing on the sidewalk, wondering how, if a single touch of her hand could have such an effect on him, he was ever going to be able to part with her yet again.

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Matthew Garcia had not had a good evening, and if he were another sort of man, one whose entire life hadn't been focused on maintaining control of himself and his surroundings, he might even now be flinging things around his condo or drinking himself into oblivion. But Matthew knew he couldn't afford such self-indulgence. What he really needed to do was think, because this situation had disaster written all over it.

He knew he'd have to tell them. He hoped that Veronica would be willing to continue accompanying him to dinners and other political events, because she had said she wasn't breaking the engagement. But she'd taken off the ring, and that would be noticed immediately.

Matthew needed to do what he could to cover himself, to control the situation, and that began with a phone call.

"Good evening, Padrino," he said, his voice ingratiating, "I hope I'm not calling too late."

A pause.

"Yes, well something has come up, Padrino, and I thought I should let you know right away that perhaps...perhaps I won't be marrying Veronica after all. At least, not right away."

Another pause.

"No, there is no one else that I could..."

"Yes, I understand how vital this is, how long the plans have been in the making..."

"Tomorrow? Of course, Padrino, it's always a pleasure to see you. I look forward to it."

Matthew hung up the phone. _Fuck, I hadn't thought things could get any worse. But they just did._


	10. Part II - Chapter 5

Part II - Chapter 5

He wasn't sure if he was being prudent or just indulging in some wishful thinking, but Logan had been careful to make sure his phone was set to "ring" while it recharged overnight. Although he knew it was unlikely that Veronica would call while he was sleeping, he hadn't wanted to take the chance. But the phone had remained stubbornly silent, and he awoke on Saturday not to a ringing phone but to the sun filtering through the half-closed blinds.

He pulled himself out of bed and headed to the shower, hoping she wouldn't decide to call in the next few minutes. While the warm water cascaded over his body, he let his mind wander as he considered everything that had happened in the past ten days.

Logan didn't kid himself. It had been a blow to hear from Cliff that Veronica had a fiancé, but he knew he'd eventually have to accept it. But first, he'd just wanted make sure that the man was someone who was...worthy of Veronica. So he'd gotten himself invited to the Farnsworths' dinner, where he'd expected to meet a charismatic firebrand who'd made it all the way from his humble beginnings to the top of the food chain through a combination of intelligence, ambition, and pluck. A male version of Veronica, perhaps, with a bent for politics. He'd expected to be impressed.

Instead, he'd met a careful man, who'd clearly married his way into the best circles and who seemed less suited for politics than almost anyone Logan had met.

Logan had purposely remained at the Farnsworth dinner after Veronica left to hear what Garcia had to say for himself. He'd listened attentively while the candidate regurgitated all the right answers when asked about his reasons for running for office: his feeling of obligation to help his community, the corruption that was rampant in many local governments, how it had been his lifelong dream to become California Attorney General. Blah, blah, blah. And the others at the table had all nodded and smiled like sheep, and pledged their support as well as their dollars.

But Logan had a bullshit meter that had been finely calibrated against the grandiose ramblings of that king of bastards, Aaron Echolls. Almost from birth, he'd learned to distinguish sincerity from utter crap, and he just fucking _knew_ that somebody else had written those lines that Garcia was spouting, and that he was tossing them off because that's what was expected. And his delivery wasn't even that good. Logan figured that with his own thespian genes, he could have done a hell of a lot better job himself.

So he'd come away from the dinner...puzzled. And wary. And wanting some answers.

He'd gone to Garcia's the next night, hoping to figure out what made the man so fucking appealing to Veronica, and why the _hell_ she'd ever agreed to marry him. Because he knew damned well it wasn't the rock that she'd been wearing on her finger.

Logan continued his musings as he dried himself off and pulled clean clothes out of his suitcase. After the dinner at the Farnsworths', he'd been pretty damned sure that he didn't like Matthew Garcia, and that he never would, but he had supposed that his reaction might stem from feelings of jealousy or possessiveness. After the dinner at Garcia's, he'd adjusted that opinion. Now he knew that the man was a pretentious prick, and that he would have despised him no matter how they'd met. Logan had always been a good judge of character, and he knew that Matthew Garcia was a self-important jerk, and worse, that he seemed to think of Veronica as one of his possessions.

He grimaced then, remembering that he himself hadn't exactly been the poster child for good behavior the night before, either. Logan had wanted prove to Veronica that he'd changed, that he'd at last learned to exercise some self-restraint. But instead, he'd only succeeded in making himself look like an idiot.

Logan sighed. All those years gaining control of his temper and he'd just reverted right back to jackass mode. Blurted out information that he'd known was bound to shock her even as it was spilling out of his mouth. He hadn't done anything quite so stupid in a long, long time.

By rights, Veronica should have been pissed as hell, but somehow...she wasn't. He'd expected to find her long gone by the time he'd finally made it out of Garcia's building. Instead, he'd found her leaning against the building hugging herself, and he'd wanted to kick himself for proving to her that he was still an insensitive asshole.

But she hadn't been angry so much as bewildered. And he could relate. He'd felt that way himself just a few days before, and he desperately needed to explain it all to her. But he wouldn't be able to do that until she called and they set up a...meeting.

He was just about to say "Screw the waiting," and call her when his phone beeped and a text appeared. From Veronica.

_Can't do today_, it said. _Tomorrow 2pm Japanese Tea Garden?_

_OK, _he responded, biting back his disappointment that he'd have to wait yet another day to talk to her.

His phone beeped again. _Do you know where it is? _

Logan chuckled. Typical Veronica. She'd make the arrangements to suit herself, and only then worry about whether or not they were workable.

_I'll find it,_ he texted back. He had some idea that it was in the park, but he'd figure it out if it took him all day.

Tomorrow. Damn. He was wondering how he was going to fill the empty day that now stretched before him when his phone actually rang. Logan snatched it up and pressed "Answer," hoping to hear that Veronica had reconsidered. But it was a different female on the other end of the line.

"Hi, Logan?" The voice was bright and cheery. "I hope I didn't wake you. I'm not usually up this early, but my body clock is still all screwed up."

Logan did some quick mental gymnastics. "Evie?" he said. He was surprised to hear from her. He smirked. Well, perhaps not altogether.

"Yes, it's Evie. Sorry, didn't I say that?" She sounded a little breathless, as though she'd just finished a run.

Logan laughed. "No," he said, "you skipped that part. But I managed to figure it out."

Evie laughed, too. "Yep, my mom keeps telling me I need to improve my 'social graces'. That's what she calls it. 'Social graces'."

"Yeah, well I wouldn't worry about it. At least not as far as I'm concerned. I'm not exactly known for my good manners either. Although, like yours, my mother did try." At least sometimes, he thought. She tried sometimes.

"So what can I do for Evie Garcia today?" he asked, a smile in his voice. He'd already learned that Evie could be outrageous. And she seemed very young for her age, or maybe he was just very old for his. But he liked her. She somehow reminded him of another young girl he'd known a long time ago, who'd also said outrageous things and dressed provocatively to annoy her parents.

"You can take me to lunch," she said. It was the last thing he'd expected.

"Uh, Evie, I'm not sure that's a good idea." He tried to let her down gently.

"Why?" she asked. "Because you and my father don't like each other?" He was beginning to think that Evie had never heard of subtlety. Or perhaps she just didn't believe in it.

Logan had no idea how to respond to her question, but it didn't matter. Any response would have been superfluous, because Evie just wasn't taking 'no' for an answer. She continued to wheedle, using a tone that with anyone else Logan would have found annoying, but with Evie Garcia, he simply found amusing.

"The thing is, Logan, one of my friends had actually _heard_ of you. She kept insisting that I really couldn't have met you because you never leave Neptune." She paused, exasperated, "Where the hell _is_ Neptune, anyway?"

Logan couldn't help the bark of laughter that erupted. He hadn't met anyone so delightfully sassy in a long time. Or so totally tactless. She was like one of those madcap heiresses in the very old black and white movies that he'd sometimes watched with his mother when he was little. Carole Lombard. Myrna Loy. Claudette Colbert. He remembered them all fondly. She was Carole, Myrna, Claudette, and all the others, but with a Latin twist.

"So if we were to go to lunch," he said, the laughter still in his voice, "is there any chance that one or more of your disbelieving girlfriends might just happen by?"

"Er, that is a possibility," Evie said, sounding a little more confident now that it seemed she might get what she wanted. "So you'll come?"

"Why not?" Logan said. "I find myself unexpectedly free today. Why don't I pick you up? Say around one?"

"It's a date!" Evie laughed. "I'll meet you in front of the building."

Logan hung up thinking about his plan to spend the better part of his afternoon playing the amusing charmer for a bunch of rich late-adolescent females. Shades of his not-so-distant past.

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He'd assured Matthew he'd be there by mid-morning, but ten o'clock came and went, and then eleven, and still Padrino had not arrived. Matthew felt that he would jump out of his skin if he had to wait much longer. He knew he was in for a dressing down. But what could he do? He could not marry a woman who was still married to someone else.

Matthew chafed at being put in this position. At having to defend his actions. At having to explain to anyone else something as personal as what woman he chose to be with.

He had known Padrino for more than 30 years, since he was in his early teens, and Matthew had always looked up to him, been in awe of him. Padrino had been kind and encouraging, and Matthew had basked in his approval. But then, Matthew had always met or exceeded the expectations that had been set for him, so why should he not have had that approval?

But now - now they had asked something of him for which he had slowly come to realize he was not at all suited. He did not enjoy the constant networking and politicking. Matthew had worked hard to become successful, and now he wanted to enjoy the fruits of that success, not spend his time ingratiating himself to strangers. And in the greatest of all ironies, if he was successful in his quest, he would be forced to work for a pittance compared to what he could be making in his law practice.

But one did not refuse a...request...from such men.

So he'd found himself preparing to declare his candidacy for California Attorney General. Padrino had insisted that a single man would not be as appealing to the electorate. He might be seen as a player, and what the voters wanted was a 'family man'. Matthew had already been dating Veronica for a few months, and it was suggested that he should become engaged.

Matthew smiled wryly. Perhaps 'suggested' was not precisely the correct word.

Matthew had been relieved when Veronica had agreed to his proposal. He doubted he could find anyone else who suited him so well. He'd hoped that after the primaries were over and he had the party's nomination in hand, he could persuade Veronica to marry him with little fanfare.

And now...this. Matthew would make it his business to ensure that this time her divorce went through as quickly as possible. Because until that happened, he knew that she wouldn't put that ring back on her finger. And the man who had been his mentor for so many years would be seriously displeased.

Matthew was relieved when he heard a knock on the door around noon. Evie was thankfully in her room getting ready for an outing with her friends, so Matthew let his visitor in himself and ushered him into his office.

"Can I get you anything, Padrino?" he asked cordially. "Some coffee or water? Perhaps a glass of Merlot?

"No, Mateo. This is not a time of day during which I generally imbibe."

"And your...friend? Out in the hallway?"

The older man just grunted. "He does not need anything. He is only here to see to _my_ needs, Stop hovering, Mateo. Sit, sit."

Matthew seated himself at one end of the large couch, while the older man took the other end. No one called him 'Mateo' anymore, except for Padrino. _Is he trying to remind me of who I am, where I came from? If he only knew that I can never forget, no matter how hard I try_.

"So what is this new complication with the lovely Veronica, Mateo?" Padrino had never met Veronica, nor was he likely to, but he'd seen pictures of her.

"Uh, there's been a slight hitch in our...plans. For the time being, Veronica has...removed her engagement ring."

"So, she's broken the engagement?" the older man asked, displeased and waiting for an explanation.

"No...but she...doesn't want to wear the ring. It's...temporary."

"You are not making sense, Mateo. If she has not broken the engagement, why give back the ring?"

"Well, uh, it's a strange situation. Veronica was married once before, when she was very young..."

Padrino frowned. "Very young? She is not so old now," he said. "Why have I not heard about this early marriage before now?"

"It...it didn't seem relevant." And besides, she never told me. But he knew better than to part with that information. "But...as it turns out, there was some...irregularity with her divorce. A, uh, technical thing. She just found this out," Matthew hastened to add.

"So all this time you have been courting a woman who was already married?" Padrino was quick to get to the point. "Who else knows about this?" he asked, his voice harsh and his expression severe.

"No one." Matthew rushed to reassure him. "She told me about it immediately. She was shocked." Well, it was almost the truth.

"And...the husband?" The older man got right to the heart of the matter. "He won't be causing any trouble, or trying to blackmail you while this 'technical thing' is resolved?"

"No, no." Matthew tried to picture the extremely wealthy Echolls attempting to extort money from him. "That's not going to happen. They hadn't seen each other in years before this came to light. It will just take a few weeks to straighten it all out. But in the meantime, she...didn't feel right about wearing the ring."

Padrino was silent for a moment, thoughtful. "You assured me that Veronica was the right person," he finally said.

"She is, Padrino, she is," Matthew said hurriedly. "She's brilliant and beautiful..."

"All well and good, Mateo." His voice was cold. "But something like this could ruin you. No matter how attractive she is, if this gets out, it won't help you win an election."

"It will all be taken care of within a very short time." Matthew rushed in. "And Veronica is worth the wait. These days, the public expects more from the wives of elected officials than they used to. More than just smiles and a nice dress. Veronica is brilliant and articulate. She could be a great asset..."

"_Could_ be, Mateo?" His tone was sharp. "She _must be _the person who can help you win this election. This is our one chance to ensure that the Attorney General's office is...sympathetic to our needs."

His look became pointed, his voice deliberate. "And I know I do not have to remind you that this is your opportunity to repay all the...kindnesses that you have received over the years. Nothing that is given to you in this life comes without obligations. You may have forgotten that in your zeal to become the important San Francisco lawyer, but the time has come for you to give back to those who made it possible."

His voice was deceptively soft. "We won't have another chance at the Attorney General's office if you fail." For the first time in the many years he'd known Padrino, Matthew looked at the man and felt a chill.

"I know you understand, Mateo." His voice, usually warm like honey, was cold as ice. "Failure will not be acceptable."

Matthew nodded his head. "Is there any way in which I can demonstrate to you that my assurances are justified?"

Padrino smiled suddenly, and Matthew was inexplicably reminded of a shark he'd seen once on a school visit to the aquarium when he was a boy.

"Bring your beautiful Veronica to the charity ball next weekend." He laughed a little, and Matthew shuddered inwardly, recognizing for the first time the coldness in his eyes. "Who knows which charity it is? It doesn't matter. It only matters that you be seen there with your woman and that you look the part. That you convince all those Anglo bigwigs you're so friendly with that the boy from the _barrios_ deserves their support."

He paused. "If you can't get her to do that much, Mateo, we may need to rethink your Veronica."

"What...what does that mean, Padrino?" His voice was so faint could hardly hear it himself.

"We won't worry about that now, Mateo," he said.

By the time the older man left, Matthew was practically shaking, but he wasn't sure whether it was from fear or anger.

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When Logan pulled up to the curb near Garcia's building at one o'clock, Evie was nowhere in sight. He had to maneuver to find a temporary parking spot because directly in front of the building a large, chauffeured vehicle was taking up most of the available space. He shook his head and reflected that the waiting was also reminiscent of his adolescence.

When Evie came through the door just a minute or two later, she appeared to be in the company of two men, one considerably older even than Garcia, and the other...

Logan did a double-take. He knew that face, but the couldn't quite put a name to it. It was a Neptune connection, he was sure if it. So what was he doing here? Logan grabbed his phone impulsively and started snapping pictures of the two men.

He thought it was possible that she'd just happened to come out of the building at the same time as the men, until the older man leaned over and kissed Evie on the cheek, confirming that she knew them. Logan ducked down instinctively, but there was no need. The two men were paying no attention to his car or its occupant as they entered the chauffeured vehicle.

"Friends of yours?" Logan asked as Evie got into his car.

"Old friend of Daddy's," she answered. "He kind of gives me the creeps, but he's Daddy's _padrino_ so I have to tolerate him."

"_Padrino_?" Logan asked.

"Yeah," she said, "like his sponsor...or his mentor. Daddy's always complaining that my Spanish sucks." She tossed her head. "But just because my name is Garcia doesn't mean I should know how to speak Spanish."

Logan was amused by her attitude, but still curious about the man. About the pair of men.

"And what about the other man?" he asked her.

"Him? I don't know. He's just one of Padrino's flunkies."

"Flunkies?"

"Yeah. Padrino's been visiting Daddy for years and he always has some young guy with him to open the door for him, help him on with his coat..." she gave Logan a pert look. "Wipe his ass."

Logan laughed on cue. "So he's...no one special."

"Nope. Don't think I've ever seen that one before. He's better than some of them," she added. "At least this one was respectful, didn't try to look down my dress."

Curiouser and curiouser, Logan thought. "Where to, Madam?" he asked Evie as he pulled away from the curb.

"Do you know how to get to the waterfront?" she said, laughing. "I have a strong feeling that a couple of my friends might be hanging around there today."

"As you wish," he said smiling.

As he'd predicted, Logan spent the next three hours regaling Evie and her friends with stories about Neptune and other aspects of his life that he didn't mind sharing. But he was also able to casually extract information about Matthew Garcia's life as a boy. Evie didn't know much, but what she did know was in Logan's possession by the end of the afternoon.

After he dropped off Evie at her door, Logan thought again about the pictures in his phone, about Garcia's mysterious "_padrino_," and about why he might have a "flunky" who hailed from Neptune.

He pulled his phone out as he maneuvered the car along the city's hilly streets and punched in a familiar name. Maybe he'd visit an old friend and get some technical assistance with the pictures at the same time.

"Hey, Mac," he said when she answered. "You'll never guess where I am."

"Oh, I think I might," she said. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming north?"

"I thought I'd surprise you," he said, "but I guess I'm too late."

"You might say that," she said.

"So how'd you like some company? I'd like to see that condo you keep bragging about, and I might even be persuaded to buy you dinner."

"I've already got company," she said vaguely.

Logan paused.

"You got a new guy you haven't told me about?" he asked.

"Not exactly," she responded with a sigh.

Logan stilled. "Is Veronica there now?" He really didn't even have to ask.

"Kind of," she said, and he could hear the discomfort in her voice.

Logan thought furiously. "I'd like to see your place, Mac," he told his friend, "but I also need a little technical help with something. Uh, why don't you call me when you're free?"

"Technical help. Well, that certainly sounds intriguing," she said brightly. "I'll do that."

Logan hung up. Veronica was there. Well, he was pretty sure there was at least one bombshell he wouldn't have to drop on Mac.

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Mac pressed "End" and looked straight up into Veronica's suspicious eyes.

"That was Logan, wasn't it?" she asked Mac.

Mac sighed, not even trying to dissemble. With Veronica, it simply wasn't possible.

"It was," she said. "He, uh, wants to see my condo since he's visiting the city..." Her voice trailed off as she realized the implications of that.

"Veronica..." she began, but that's as far as she got.

"So how long have you and Logan been in touch?" Veronica asked quietly.

Mac sighed. "Since the beginning. Almost since you moved up here."

Veronica was bewildered. "Why? How?"

"'How' is easier," Mac answered honestly. "I drop in on him sometimes when I'm in Neptune to visit my family. We might catch a meal or have a drink. Sometimes he'll call, or I will, if we haven't seen each other for a while."

Mac hurried on, trying to explain. "I didn't want to keep it from you, Veronica, but you could barely stand to hear the name 'Logan'. Why would I tell you I'd seen him? And then...it just became habit. He was 'off limits' as a conversational topic. That's just how it was."

"But, why, Mac? You'd never been that close to Logan. I guess I just...I don't understand."

"Oh, god," she said softly. Mac had known this day would come eventually, and she'd always hoped that when it did, she'd be able to explain it to Veronica's satisfaction.

"When everything...happened...here, Logan and I...Veronica, I sat with him for hours. Waiting, just waiting in that...hospital."

Veronica turned away. "Mac," she said. "I don't want to talk about that..."

"I know you don't," Mac said. "You never did. That was your choice and I respected it. But I had a feeling that Logan...might. He'd called me about something totally unrelated to you and I just...I suddenly thought to myself that if you'd wanted to talk, you could have talked to me. But Logan had no one. No one who knew."

Mac's eyes begged Veronica to understand, and not see her friendship with Logan as a betrayal.

"So...when I finally managed some time for a family visit, while I was in Neptune I went to see him. To see if he wanted to talk about...everything. And...he did."

Mac sighed and continued earnestly. "I promise you, Veronica, that except for that first time, we never discussed...you...at all. I never told him what you were up to...and he never asked. We talked about his business, if he had any new projects. I'd tell him about work. Sometimes Dick joined us for dinner."

"Dick? Dick Casablancas? Don't tell me you and Dick are buddies, too!" Veronica simply couldn't imagine it.

Mac chuckled. "I wouldn't say we're exactly friends, no, but we...tolerate each other." She shrugged. "And maybe he's grown up a little,too."

"So...you know about LEA." Veronica made it a statement.

"Logan's business? Yes, of course. Why are you asking about _that_?" Mac was puzzled.

"No particular reason," Veronica lied, suddenly realizing that if she'd only known to ask Mac about 'Leah', she could have saved herself from all that...hurt. She didn't try to fool herself into thinking it had been anything else.

"I'm not upset with you Mac," she said finally. "You were being a friend to Logan when he needed one and I can't fault you for that."

"I'm a friend to _both_ of you." Mac wanted to be very clear. "It hasn't been a problem up to now. And I don't see why it should be."

"It won't. It's not." Veronica hastened to assure her. "It was just such a surprise."

"Hardly the biggest one you've had this week, though," Mac suggested with a small smile.

"Nope, not hardly," Veronica agreed.

"So...what are you gonna do about _that_?" Mac wanted to know.

Veronica sighed. "I guess we'll talk to a lawyer about putting everything right."

"And by that you mean..."

"I mean, find out from Logan what went wrong with the...divorce...the first time, and make sure it doesn't happen again," Veronica said. "Fix it."

"Fix it? That's it? There are _no_ other possible options, _no_ other possible outcomes to explore?" Mac raised her brows and looked pointedly at Veronica.

"Mac, we should have been divorced six years ago. The fact that we weren't, well, it was just some kind of mistake, nothing more. Something happened, I don't know what yet, but..."

"Veronica," Mac knew she should probably butt out, but she and Veronica had been friends for a long time and she couldn't just let it go. "Did you ever think that maybe this...this glitch...or whatever the hell it was, might have happened for a reason? That maybe the universe is trying to tell you something?"

"This from you, Mac? My rational scientist? You're the one person who knows how hard I've worked to build a life for myself here. And Matthew..." Veronica paused.

"What about Matthew?" Mac asked.

"He...he fits my life." Veronica finished quietly.

"He fits your life? That's all you can say about him?" Mac bit her lip, but couldn't hold back.

"Veronica, I was there, remember. Not just for the sad part..."

"Mac, please don't." Veronica put up her hands, as if to ward off what Mac might say next.

But Mac was on a roll by then, and wasn't going to stop until she got it all out.

"Not only for the sad parts," she continued softly, "but for the happy parts, too. Please don't try to convince me that you and Logan..." She started again. "I've never seen two people so in love as you and Logan were that weekend before everything...went to hell. I just think...you shouldn't forget that part."

Mac stopped abruptly as if she could hardly believe that she'd finally said the words that she'd held back for so many years.

Veronica stared at her and for a moment Mac was afraid that she'd gone too far. Then Veronica heaved a sigh.

"I...accepted Matthew's proposal, Mac." Her face was set. "I...I owe him some loyalty."

Mac was silent for a moment.

"And what about what you owe yourself?" she asked finally. "What about what _you_ really want?"

"This is what I want," Veronica insisted.

Mac nodded. "Okay," she said, knowing it would be pointless to continue. It had never been possible to sway Veronica once she'd made up her mind. She'd always needed to figure things out for herself.

She smiled suddenly and glanced at the clock, changing the subject.

"Do you want to get some takeout?" Mac asked. "There's a great new Italian place just down the street." She figured Veronica could use some food after all the emotional conversation. They were neither of them used to it.

Not for the first time that day, Veronica surprised her.

"I'm not very hungry," she said. "I think I'll go home. I've...I've got some work to do."

"Work? But you just finished a big trial. I don't..."

"Thanks for listening, Mac," she said, picking up her handbag. "You're a good friend. I...I'll think about what you said." She smiled softly as she opened the door and said, "and I'm pretty sure you could talk Logan into the Italian takeout."

Then she was gone, and Mac was left wondering if she'd said too much...or not enough.

xxxxxxxx

Veronica was right. When she returned his call, Mac was more successful in interesting Logan in the new Italian restaurant, particularly when he heard its name.

_"La Dolce Vita?" _he said, chuckling. "Who could resist? I'll be ordering the Tortellini Fellini."

When he showed up an hour later, he was carrying a large takeout bag that was redolent of garlic and oregano. Mac unpacked it and set the food out on the small table in her dining alcove.

"This place is great, Mac," Logan said, looking around. "I'd say the bragging is justified."

"Says the man with the multi-million dollar beach house," Mac scoffed.

"Well, a house on the beach would make it easier for you get more surfing in," he agreed.

"I'll keep that in mind," she said with a laugh, as she ate her Tomato Risotto and sipped her wine. "So, what kind of technical assistance do you need? I'm always looking for a challenge."

Logan's brows rose. "So we're just going there directly, huh, Mac? We're skipping right over everything Veronica must have told you when she was here?"

"Logan..." Mac sighed. "You know I won't talk to you about Veronica. You've never put me in the middle like that. Please don't start now."

Logan dropped his fork onto his plate and studied her intently.

"Okay, let's not talk about the fact that Veronica and I are still married. Let's talk about Garcia instead," he tried.

"Logan," Mac chastised him. "You can't possibly expect me to discuss Veronica's personal life."

Logan threw up his hands in frustration. "By all means, Mac, let's not talk about my _wife_ or her _fiancé,_ because that's just none of my fucking business."

Mac was sympathetic. "Logan, I know you want to have this conversation, but you need to have it with Veronica, not with me."

"Okay, _fine!" _he said, glowering. He stabbed his fork into his lasagna and ate quietly for a few minutes before speaking again.

"Just tell me one thing, Mac, and then I'll stop bugging you."

"If I can," she said warily.

Logan wondered how he could phrase his question so that Mac might actually answer it.

"You've met Garcia, right?"

Mac nodded. "Yes," she said. "A few times, but I don't know him well."

"Okay. So tell me honestly, would you be happy to see Veronica married to him?"

"Well," she said, "it's Veronica who has to...to like him."

Logan's eyebrows rose and he said, "That's not what I asked, Mac."

Mac paused. "Fine," she responded. "Let's just say that I wouldn't be _unhappy_ to find that she _wasn't_ going to marry him."

Logan smirked. "Good enough," he said, satisfied.

"And now that you've wormed that out of me," Mac wanted to know, "what's this technical assistance you require from your computer genius friend?"

"I thought 'genius' was overstating it, Mac?" he reminded her.

"I've reconsidered," she said with a smile.

Logan laughed and pulled out his phone, accessing the pictures he'd taken outside Garcia's building earlier that day.

"I took some pictures of a couple of guys, one older and one about our age." He showed the pictures to Mac. "The young guy...does he seem at all familiar to you?"

Mac took a look and said instantly, "Neptune High, PCHer. Scary guy." Then added, "Can't remember his name."

"PCHer! What the hell is wrong with me?" Logan's arms flailed around as he berated himself for not making the obvious connection.

"Look," he asked her, "can you...using your mad computer skills...separate the two men...and maybe remove the background...so I can get two separate pictures, but nothing to show where they were taken?"

"Oh, the things people ask me to do," Mac said with a smile, uploading the images into her computer and beginning the task of creating what Logan had asked for.

"I'll clean these up a little, too," she said. "I think I can make their faces a little clearer."

Mac paused, looking at him out if the corner of her eye. "And then you're going to tell me what this is all about."

"When I figure it out, I will," he promised.

As soon as Mac finished and uploaded the new pictures into Logan's phone, he sent a text to Weevil and attached the picture of the younger man. The text said simply, "Do you know this guy?"

They didn't have to wait long. When his phone rang, he knew it was Weevil before he even checked the Caller ID.

Without preamble, Weevil barked into the phone, "Where did you get that picture?"

"Why?" Logan asked him.

"Because that's my cousin Chardo, and I haven't seen him in almost five years!"

"Chardo! Shit, I should've remembered. Weevil, what's Chardo doing these days?"

"I don't know exactly, man, but whatever it is, it ain't good. He's like the, what do you call it, the _black sheep_ in my family. And that's sayin' somethin', because the Navarros ain't exactly choir boys...as you know."

Logan suddenly had a very bad feeling. "Weevil, this is important. Can you find out what Chardo has gotten himself mixed up in? Who he works for?"

"I don't know, Logan. My grandma might know something, but she's not gonna want to talk to me about it."

Logan paused, not sure exactly how much to tell Weevil.

"Weevs, if I tell you that this involves...Veronica's welfare, would that give you some incentive to find out?"

There was a moment of silence from the other end of the line.

"Logan...you've seen V? Is she okay?"

"She is...for now. Look," he continued, "can you go see Lety tonight? I wouldn't ask if it wasn't really important."

Weevil caught the edge of concern in Logan's tone. "Let me see what I can find out," he said.

xxxxxxxx

Leticia Navarro had had to raise several of her grandchildren, and most of them were grateful. But none showed his gratitude more than her grandson Eli.

Lety had never known where he got the money, but Eli had assured her it was completely legitimate. So she could do nothing but thank him when he'd found a way to buy the small house that she'd been living in for the past ten years while she was raising his cousin Diego. Now Diego was at college - _gracias a dios - _and since he was the youngest, the last she'd had to raise, she was able to take her ease in her own home.

When Eli showed up unexpectedly that Saturday night, Lety was busy watching reruns of _The Golden Girls _on the new flat-screen TV that they'd all chipped in to buy her last Christmas. She often wondered about those "girls." It seemed that in their whole life, none of them had ever had to do anything more difficult than keep a husband happy. But still, she had to laugh at their antics. And Lety could always use a good laugh.

"Whatcha doin', _abuela,_" Eli said as he walked into her house. Lety smiled. Eli always said the same thing every time he came in the door. But it was Saturday, not Monday. What was he doing here? Letty liked things to stay in a nice, predictable rhythm, because when there was a change in the rhythm, that's when there was trouble.

"And what else would I be doing on a Saturday night, Eli, but watching _The Golden Girls_? The real question is why are you here on Saturday? Shouldn't you be taking your beautiful wife somewhere nice instead of visiting me?"

"What? I can't come over on a Saturday?" Eli smiled at her fondly, kissing her on the cheek. "Besides, Marisol is pretty tired still, _abuela_. The baby just started sleeping through the night, so she's not really feelin' like kickin' up her heels."

"You know I would be happy to come over and give her a little rest, Eli. Take care of my great-grandchild." Lety loved to say the word, and she smiled often just remembering that she really had a great-grandchild.

"Pretty soon," he said. "As soon as she's just a little bigger. Right now, it's hard to get Marisol to leave her."

"So what is it, Eli? I know you're here for a reason," she said.

"Yeah." Weevil wasn't sure how to start, so he finally just dived right in. "What do you know...what do you hear...about Chardo?"

It was the last thing Lety had expected. "Why are you asking about Chardo?" she said.

Weevil wasn't sure what to tell her because Logan hadn't given him any details.

"He was...seen somewhere." he finally said.

"Seen by who? And...where?"

"By Logan," he said. "He never said where."

"By Mr. Logan? But how could that be?" Lety was perplexed.

Weevil shook his head and smiled at her. "You know Logan would be upset if he heard you call him that, _abuela," _he said.

"Ah, it just comes naturally to the tongue," she said, shaking her head. "So many years I watched that sad little boy grow up."

Weevil had heard similar sentiments from his grandmother over the years, but she'd never explain, and he finally stopped asking.

She brightened suddenly. "But when I saw him at your wedding, I couldn't believe what a fine man he is now. He kept talking about how sorry he was about evicting us from that other house. But what did I care? We moved in here. It was bigger, better. And besides," she looked sideways at her grandson, "I know you had something to do with that, Eli. You caused him some trouble and so he made trouble for you."

"Me and Logan, we made our peace a long time ago, _abuela,_" her grandson assured her. "We've been friends for a while now and...he's helped me out, gave me a chance to do some things...and now he's asked me for help. He needs to know about Chardo."

Lety sighed. "You know I don't like to talk about Chardo. He was not a good boy, not even when he was little." Lety crossed herself. It made her sick at heart to speak ill of her grandson, but, after all, the truth was the truth.

"Chardo...the last time he got out of prison, I went to pick him up, but he told me he had made other arrangements."

"You never told me this," Weevil said.

"No, Eli, because you didn't need to know, and because I was...ashamed."

Lety paused. "I saw the man who picked him up. I didn't know his name, but I'd seen him driving around in a big flashy car and I knew what that meant. He was one of those men who come into our neighborhoods with their drugs and their guns and take our sons. Take the weak ones, like Chardo."

Lety finally looked up at him with sad eyes. "Chardo is one of those men now, Eli. And wherever he is, whatever he's doing, I don't want to know about it."

xxxxxxxx

Logan had left Mac's and was on his way back to the St. Regis when he got Weevil's call.

"Where are you?" Weevil asked, as soon as Logan answered.

"I'm in the car, on my way back to the hotel."

"Yeah, and where is the hotel, you jackass?"

"Oh, shit, Weevil. I never said, did I? I'm in San Francisco. I had...some business up here."

"So you saw Chardo in San Francisco? That's a surprise."

"Hang on, Weevs," Logan said, "I'm just pulling into the garage."

"Yeah, that's good, Logan, because if this has something to do with V, well, you shouldn't be driving when I tell you what I found out about Chardo."

Logan's heart started hammering. He just fucking _knew_ there'd been something wrong about Garcia. And he was going find out what the hell it was.

"Okay, I've parked. What is it?" Anxiety made his voice harsh.

"Shit, Logan, you're gonna have to let me know what the hell is going on. _Abuela_...my grandma told me that Chardo got himself mixed up with some drug dealers, but she doesn't know who they are, or who they work for."

Logan was silent for so long that Weevil thought that the call had dropped.

"Logan?" he finally said.

"Yeah, I'm here, Weevs." Logan was trying to absorb what Weevil had just told him. And to decide what do next.

"I...need to make another call, Weevil. Thanks for getting the information, but I need to get off the phone now."

"What the fuck, Logan! You ain't gonna just leave me like this after tellin' me that this has something to do with V."

"I don't really know how it connects up, but I'm sure as hell going to find out. I'll be back in Neptune soon, Weevil, and we'll talk."

"Yeah, I'm holding you to that," Weevil said. "And Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful."

Logan sighed. "Yeah, I think you can count on that," he said.

As soon as he hung up with Weevil, Logan placed a call to another number in Neptune.

"Keith," he said, as soon as the man answered. "It's Logan. I need you to do something for me, and to just trust me that it's important enough for you to give up your Sunday."

"What do you need, Logan?" Keith asked, immediately apprehensive, because Logan hadn't quite managed to conceal his anxiety.

"I'm going to send you a picture of a man. I...We need to find out who he is. Keith, if you know anyone at all who has access to some facial-recognition software, I need you to call him and find out this guy's name."

"Where are you now, Logan?" Keith asked.

"I'm in San Francisco." Logan offered no further explanation, but he knew that Keith would have no trouble connectIng the dots.

There was a long pause.

"Does this have anything to do with my daughter?" Keith asked finally.

"I'm not sure," Logan said honestly. "But I've got a terrible feeling that it might."

"What's going on, Logan?" Keith wasn't letting this go.

Logan sighed. It really wasn't up to him to tell Veronica's father about their failed divorce, so he didn't want to have to explain his presence in Veronica's immediate vicinity until he absolutely had to. But he needed Keith on board. Needed his help.

"I would tell you if I could, but right now, my hands are tied." He paused. "Please, Keith. I would never ask for something like this if it weren't important."

Keith was silent for nearly a minute.

"Will you give me your assurance that what you're asking of me won't hurt Veronica?"

Logan paused, trying to come up with an honest response.

"What I can assure you is that if we don't look into this man, then we may have failed to protect Veronica from a dangerous situation."

"Okay, Logan," Keith said after a moment. "That's good enough for me."

Logan uploaded the picture to Keith, and he probably should have felt some relief at sharing the burden, but he knew he'd be uneasy until they figured out exactly what - and who - they were dealing with.


	11. Part II - Chapter 6

Part II - Chapter 6

Keith Mars could count on one hand the number of times that he'd heard from Logan Echolls in the last six years. So when Logan called that Saturday evening as Keith was finishing his takeout Pad Thai, he knew that there had to be an important reason.

He'd often regretted that he hadn't felt able to keep in closer touch with Logan. After all, they still lived in the same town, they'd both suffered a terrible loss - and each of them dearly loved Veronica. But for both, it had simply been too painful. After Veronica left, Logan saw Keith as the family that he'd almost had within his grasp, but had ultimately lost. And Logan was a distressing reminder to Keith of the terrible tragedy that his daughter had suffered, and how helpless he had felt when it all happened.

Keith remembered vividly the day Veronica told him that Logan wouldn't fight a divorce, that he would make it easy for her to have what she'd been insisting for weeks that she wanted. And how she'd closed herself off inside her bedroom afterwards, while he listened to her sobbing for hours.

That day had served as a poignant reminder that no matter how old your children are, you still ache for them when they're unhappy. And that sometimes, however misguided they may be, you're forced to stand aside and watch them as they rush headlong in the wrong direction.

So he'd sat back while his only daughter grieved for her dead child and then compounded that grief by throwing away a relationship that Keith knew she valued more than she wanted to admit, even to herself. Perhaps most especially to herself.

There was some irony, he knew, in his championing the marriage between his daughter and Logan Echolls. Logan had _never _been his favorite candidate for any type of relationship with Veronica. Even when Logan had been just a kid, Keith had considered him a wise-ass punk, with too much money and too little discipline.

So he'd never have picked him out for Veronica, never have wanted Logan to become so important to her, certainly never have chosen him as a son-in-law. Over the years, he'd spent plenty of time watching Logan and Veronica as they struggled endlessly to reconcile their intense feelings for one another with their apparently incompatible personalities. In hindsight, he'd often wondered if that was all he'd _wanted_ to see, if that was all he'd _let_ himself see.

Keith thought about how people sometimes surprised you. Logan Echolls had surprised him. In many ways, Logan Echolls had amazed him.

When they'd first told him about the baby, Keith had accepted it quietly because he hadn't really had a choice in the matter, and because the idea of a grandchild was not an altogether unpleasant one. But he'd held himself in readiness because he'd had serious doubts that Logan Echolls could ever have any idea how to be a father.

But then Keith had watched as impending fatherhood wrought some astonishing changes in Logan. Almost from the beginning, Keith saw the mantle of maturity land on Logan's shoulders and begin to alter every facet of his personality. He seemed to have a picture in his head of what a father should be, and was determined to reinvent himself to be that person.

So when they told him they were getting married, he'd found that he was surprisingly optimistic about the idea. He couldn't imagine how Logan had persuaded Veronica, but Keith had been just old-fashioned enough to be happy that his daughter would not be an unwed mother, that she she was marrying her baby's father. And besides, Keith knew very well that despite his own longstanding objections, Veronica had been in love with Logan Echolls for years.

From everything he'd witnessed, things had been working out between them, they were getting along better than ever, and he could truthfully say that he'd never seen his daughter so happy.

And then tragedy had struck, cruelly and without warning.

As Keith tossed out his empty takeout cartons and cleaned his small kitchen, he thought about how much his views on Logan Echolls had changed over the years. He thought about the person that Logan had become, about the successful business that he'd built, about the quiet way he lived his life. And although he knew it was nothing whatsoever to do with him, Keith was unable to prevent himself from feeling some pride in Logan's accomplishments.

Not for the first time, Keith Mars found himself regretting that Logan Echolls was no longer his son-in-law.

When Keith moved to his laptop to open Logan's email, he saw that there was a short message included with the photo. "Not sure," Logan had written, "but this guy could be connected to drug dealers."

Drug dealers? What the hell! And this somehow involved Veronica?

Keith opened the picture and knew immediately that he'd never seen the man before. He wasn't a young man; Keith estimated he was in his sixties, a Latino, dressed in what appeared to be a very expensive suit. There was nothing special about him, nothing that would make him stand out.

He thought very carefully then about who he might reach out to for help. Keith valued and trusted each of the many law enforcement contacts that he'd made during his decade and more as a private investigator, but this was different. If Veronica was involved, even peripherally, Keith wanted not only a good contact, he wanted a discreet one. One who would understand that his first priority would be to protect his child.

So, really, there was only one name that made sense. They hadn't spoken for a while, but Keith knew that Leo D'Amato would help him, no questions asked. Leo was now a detective with the San Diego Police Department, but he'd never have been a cop at all if Keith had chosen to pursue charges against him after he'd stolen the infamous Lilly Kane sex tapes and sold them to Logan Echolls. So Leo owed Keith.

Keith scrolled down his contact list until he found Leo's cell number and pressed Send.

"Keith Mars! Or at least that's what my Caller ID says," was Leo's ebullient greeting.

"It doesn't lie, Leo," Keith said. "How are you?"

"I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop," Leo laughed. "Keith Mars never calls just to inquire about my health."

"You got me," Keith admitted. "There is something I could use your help with. Uh, I know tomorrow is Sunday, and you've probably got plans for your day off..."

"Keith," Leo said. "I'm dying here. Just spit it out."

Keith considered, unsure exactly how much to tell Leo. He decided to leave Logan's name out of it for the moment, since the name 'Logan Echolls' was bound to remind Leo of events he'd no doubt sooner forget.

"Something's come up in a...situation I'm...involved in..." Keith didn't want to actually lie to Leo.

"Keith!" Leo stopped him. "Since when do you beat around the bush?"

"Okay, Leo," Keith sighed, "since you insist, here it is. I've got a picture of a guy, I think he may be a bad guy, and I need to figure out who he is."

He stopped.

"And...that's it?" Leo asked, sure that Keith had left something out.

"Your detective skills have improved," Keith said, giving up any pretense that this was an ordinary request for assistance. "And...this could potentially involve...Veronica."

For a moment Leo was silent. "Veronica," he said without inflection.

"Look, I can explain it all, but I'd rather not do it over the phone..."

"Got a pencil?" Leo asked. "I'll give you my address. I didn't have any plans for tomorrow anyway."

xxxxxxxx

When Veronica awoke on Sunday morning, it was with a feeling of relief that she'd managed a few hours of sleep.

_This is the day._ It had been the first thought in her head that morning.

This was the day she would talk with Logan, hear his explanation, find out what had gone wrong with the divorce.

This was the day she would talk with Logan, hear about his life, find out what was important to him now.

Veronica had put off talking to Logan the day before for a lot of reasons. She was too exhausted, she'd told herself. Too confused. She needed some time to absorb it. Make sense of it. But what she'd really needed was a good friend, a sounding board, someone to talk to.

So she'd gone to Mac, who knew it all anyway, knew the whole story. And Mac had listened in that intense way she had of hearing everything and judging nothing, and it had been a relief to tell someone else after she'd spent a second sleepless night turning it all over in her mind.

Veronica hadn't expected - or really wanted - advice from Mac. That was the great thing about her closest female friend. She never felt obliged to tell Veronica how to live her life. Veronica counted on that. And yesterday, Mac had reacted exactly as she always had. At first.

And then Logan had called Mac, and Veronica had learned something entirely unexpected.

The news that Mac had kept in touch with Logan, had visited him in Neptune and considered him a good friend, all that could hardly be seen as a shocking revelation on par with, say, finding out that you were still married six years after you thought you'd been divorced. Nope, not even close. But still, Veronica hadn't known, and she'd felt a little...blindsided.

First Wallace, now Mac...even Weevil, for god's sake! All were friends with Logan. She was beginning to feel like she'd slipped through the looking glass. Beyond that, she admitted to herself, she was...envious. They had gotten to see Logan, talk to him, enjoy his company, and she...hadn't.

Veronica knew her reaction was absurd. It was _she_, after all, who'd left Neptune, who'd left her life there. Who'd left Logan. She sighed, wishing that for once she could have a sensible response to anything that had to do with Logan Echolls.

And then there'd been those unexpected words from Mac. If there was anyone that Veronica thought she knew, it was Mac. If there was anyone whose behavior she'd thought she could predict with absolute certainly, it was Mac. But this time...this time Mac had surprised her. Because after she'd patiently listened to Veronica's tale, Mac had had something to say after all. She'd had an opinion about Veronica's personal life, and that was so unusual, so completely unheard of, that Veronica had felt compelled to listen.

"_What do you really want?"_ Mac had asked her.

Veronica hadn't been able to stop thinking about that question. A week ago, she'd have said she knew exactly what she wanted. A demanding professional life - and an undemanding personal life. It's what she'd worked toward ever since she'd left Neptune, her emotions battered and her heart breaking in a dozen different ways. She'd wanted to live her life so that there was no chance that she would ever again be that heartsick.

She'd known how dangerous to her peace of mind it could be to let Logan back into her life. But she'd taken one look at him at that dinner party and had felt that old pull. So she'd spent the next day trying to convince herself that her reaction had been an aberration and reminding herself how hard she'd worked to achieve equilibrium in her personal life.

But she hadn't quite been able to ignore her overwhelming relief that there was, after all, no Leah. Or anyone else. Veronica refused to look too closely at how much that misunderstanding on her part might have informed her decision to accept first Matthew's attentions and then his proposal.

_What do you really want? _ Damn! Mac had pared it down to the essentials and Veronica just didn't want to go there right now. Veronica decided to pull a Scarlett O'Hara and think about it tomorrow.

Just for today she wouldn't think about anything _but_ today. She'd simply enjoy spending a few hours alone with Logan for the first time in years. Veronica admitted to herself that she was filled with nervous anticipation. God, she'd missed him! Logan could be exhausting, as well as exasperating, but he'd always made her feel so alive. Like every nerve was on full alert.

Just by his presence, Logan had always commanded her full attention, and she'd been dismayed to find out during those two very uncomfortable dinners that she was still as fascinated by him as ever.

So she'd thought very carefully about where they should meet. Her apartment was out of the question, as was his hotel room, although she preferred not to look too closely at why that was. Neither did she want to sit across the table from him at some restaurant, where the tempo of their encounter would be dependent upon how slowly or quickly their food was served.

In the end, she'd decided on the Japanese Tea Garden, an oasis of calm and beauty in the middle of the bustling metropolis. Located at one end of Golden Gate Park, it was by far Veronica's favorite place in the city. She'd discovered it in those difficult early weeks, when she'd spent day after day just walking for hours, trying to empty her mind of loss, and her heart of sadness. Just being in the garden had never failed to bring her some measure of peace, and she'd gone there often.

There was also the added bonus that while the garden was very public, and people would be passing them as they walked or sat, no one was likely to pay them any attention, or overhear their conversation, or in any way care that they were there. They could take as long as they needed, or leave whenever they wanted. It was perfect.

It was only 10 now, and she wasn't meeting Logan until 2, and Veronica wondered how she should fill those hours. But then she remembered that her refrigerator needed cleaning, and the floors could use a scrub. Veronica had moved on to her bathroom tile when she heard her phone ring.

_Oh, no, he's not canceling, is he?_ was her first thought. But when she looked at the Caller ID, she saw that it was Matthew. Again. She'd put him off yesterday, telling him she was too exhausted for even a short conversation, but Veronica knew that she couldn't get away with that forever.

"Hello?" she answered as though she didn't already know who it was on the other end of the line.

"Veronica! At last!" Matthew sounded exasperated. "Why didn't you call me back? I left you several messages last night."

Veronica was a little perplexed. She'd pled fatigue yesterday and was sure that would get her at least a 24-hour reprieve, but apparently Matthew thought differently.

"I was going to call you later," she said, as pleasantly as she could, considering that she was standing in her bathtub, maneuvering the phone between the sponge she held in one hand and the bottle of Tilex in the other.

"Hold on a sec," she added.

Veronica put the phone down, hopped out of the tub, and unloaded her cleaning supplies.

"I'm back," she said, picking up the phone. "What's going on, Matthew? Because I'm kind of in the middle of something."

"You're in the middle of something." Exasperation seemed to have escalated to agitation. "What could be so important that you can't talk to your...to me?"

"I _am_ talking to you, Matthew," Veronica pointed out. "What is it that's so urgent?"

There was a pause and she could almost hear him hesitating. But then he finally spoke.

"I was wondering about...the ball," he said.

"Ball?" She drew a blank.

"Yes, Veronica," the exasperation had returned. "The charity ball. Next weekend. The...homeless, I think," he added.

_With everything that's happened in the past few days, his mind is on...a dance?_

But of course, she suddenly remembered, he was still campaigning.

"What about the ball?" she asked.

"I...I just wanted to make sure that you were still planning to attend with me."

"Do you...think that's wise?" Veronica wanted to know. "Considering...everything?"

"You assured me that you were not breaking our engagement," he reminded her. "So I believe I have a..a right to ask this of you."

Veronica sighed. The very last thing she wanted to be thinking about was attending a charity ball, which was the type of event that she didn't enjoy under the best of circumstances. But neither did she want to be unfair to Matthew.

"Of course," she said finally. "if that's what you want."

"It _is_ what I want," he answered, sounding relieved. He hesitated for just a moment. "And do you think you could wear your ring, Veronica?"

Oh, god, she thought. Did she want to put that ring back on right now?

"I'm...I'm still not sure it would be the right thing to do...under the circumstances," she said. "But I promise I'll...consider it."

She heard Matthew's sigh on the other end of the line, but he didn't pursue it.

"Very well," he said, resigned. "I'll...call later on in the week about the arrangements. Goodbye, Veronica."

Matthew had hung up before she'd even said 'goodbye'. Veronica frowned. Matthew could be impenetrable sometimes, but that conversation had seemed odd, even for him.

Veronica looked at the clock. It was already 12:15 and she suddenly remembered that the bus schedule was a little erratic on Sunday. "Shit!" she said, moving into her bedroom. Tile cleaning would have to wait for another day.

xxxxxxxx

It took less than an hour to drive from Neptune to San Diego, and Keith spent most of that time wondering how his only daughter might have gotten herself mixed up with drug dealers. In her youth Veronica had often been heedless, but Keith had thought she'd left that kind of behavior behind when she moved to the Bay Area.

Of course, there was always the possibility that this had something to do with her job. But then...why would it have been Logan who'd called? What the hell was he doing in San Francisco, anyway?

Keith sighed. He knew it was useless to speculate. He hoped to know more after he talked to Leo.

When he arrived at the address that Leo had given him, Keith was surprised to find that it wasn't an apartment or even a condo, but a small house. Leo walked out as soon as Keith pulled up, locking the door behind him.

"Nice place," Keith said, as Leo opened the passenger door and settled himself in.

"Thanks," Leo said, grinning. "I figured it was time, especially since I'm getting married in September."

"What?" Keith said. "Well, congratulations, Leo." He frowned. "So I guess I must be cutting into your time with...?"

"Lisa," Leo supplied. "And you're not. She's a nurse and had a shift today, so all you're cutting into is my planned afternoon of complete boredom. Why don't you show me that guy you're trying to identify?" he continued. "Maybe we'll get lucky and we can spend the rest of the day hanging out, drinking beer, and I can give you the 50-cent tour."

Keith pulled out his phone and found the picture, but as he'd expected, the man rang no bells for Leo.

"So we've got some pretty good face recognition software now." Leo nodded at Keith. "Just had it installed a couple of months ago. But it can be slow. It...could be hours."

"Then we'd better get started," Keith said, pulling away from the curb and heading towards the San Diego Police Department.

xxxxxxxx

As she waited near the entrance to the garden, Veronica wasn't sure whether she was more nervous or excited. She'd already seen Logan twice in the past three days, but neither time had been under the best of circumstances. They hadn't had a chance to really talk at all.

That dinner in Sausalito...she was pretty sure she'd actually stopped breathing for a few seconds when she saw him standing in the back of the room. And then the mix-up about...LEA. Veronica blushed, thinking again about her erroneous assumptions. It had been even more embarrassing the next night when Logan managed to connect the dots.

She tried not to think about the dinner at Matthew's. Rarely had an evening gone so badly. Matthew had been so angry, but she told herself that it hadn't been his fault, that she could hardly blame him. She _should_ have told him about her marriage, but she'd kept putting it off.

And then Logan... Until he'd lost his temper so completely, he had seemed so controlled, so completely in command of himself, that Veronica had wondered if there was anything at all left of the old, headstrong Logan.

She grinned suddenly, glad she hadn't lost her sense of humor about the crazy things that seemed to happen whenever Logan Echolls was around...

"Thinking happy thoughts about me, Mars?" His voice was suddenly in her ear.

Veronica turned and...there he was, smiling as though they hadn't spent almost six years apart, as though a walk in the park together was an everyday occurrence.

"You wish!" she shot back, and all at once her nerves evaporated.

"I did forget to tell you that there's a small fee to get into the garden," she explained.

"And I suppose you expect me to pay for you, too," he said good-naturedly.

"Well, a girl can hope," she laughed, and suddenly it felt like a walk through the Japanese Tea Garden with Logan Echolls was the most natural thing in the world.

They entered the garden, a riot of graceful trees, shrubs, and flowers set along pathways that seemed to twist and turn in every direction. In the background, the murmur of running water could be heard as the occasional waterfall came into view. And here and there, elegant man-made structures had been placed that enhanced the garden's unique charm.

"It's beautiful in here," Logan said, as they strolled along, careful to keep some distance between them.

"Yes," Veronica agreed. "It's been my favorite place in the city since I first came to live in San Francisco. I'd walk here for hours trying to make sense of my life..."

Too late, she recalled exactly who she was talking to, and her voice trailed away.

Veronica glanced up at Logan, but she couldn't discern any particular expression on his face, no shared intimacy, nothing that would remind her of the most painful experience of her life.

Veronica cleared her throat and began again.

"So," she said, "you and Weevil, huh?"

Logan quirked an eyebrow as if to say, 'Six years and this is what you want to ask me about?'. But he was game. Anything she wanted to talk about was okay with him.

"Sure," he said with a small smile. "Why not?"

Veronica smirked at him. "Well, let me count the ways." And she proceeded to tick them off on her fingers. "Uh, Lilly, Felix, he burned down your house, you burned down the community pool, he played Russian Roulette with your body parts, you evicted his elderly grandmother, and, oh yeah, Lilly."

She looked up at him and asked, "Do I need to go on, because I'm running out of fingers?"

Logan smiled. "Believe it or not," he said, "we put all that behind us."

"So you said," she nodded, "but what I want to know is...why?"

"I'm not sure I can explain it to you."

"Try," she said.

Logan noticed that they were approaching a stone bench that was set so naturally into the landscape that he'd almost missed it.

"Let's sit here," he said, "and I'll give it a shot."

The two of them sat on the bench, not too closely, still not touching, but not so far away that they looked like perfect strangers or even casual acquaintances.

"The safety helmet is what brought them to my door. Wallace and Weevil." He laughed suddenly, remembering. "And if you think the idea of me and Weevil is fucked up, try to imagine me and my two biggest fans sitting around my back patio having a beer."

"I _can't_ imagine it," she admitted with a smile. The last time she'd been to his house, she remembered, there'd been nothing on the back patio to sit on.

"Yeah, if you'd asked me the day before it happened, I'd have said there wasn't a chance in hell I'd be sharing a beer with either of them. Yet, there we were, not only sharing a beer, but finding a way to help kids play safer, coming up with a business plan, making it happen."

"Having an _adventure_," she added, smiling at his enthusiasm.

"Yeah," he grinned sheepishly.

"Do you get this excited over all your products?" she wanted to know.

"Well, they all had something unique that made me want to...get involved. That's why I named my business Logan Echolls _Adventures_, instead of something more...conventional. But this one...this adventure...was special."

"Why was Weevil involved at all?" she asked.

It was still hard for him to believe she didn't know. He'd been so sure Wallace would have mentioned something about it. "It was his cousin, Diego, who got a head injury playing for Neptune. That's why he and Wallace came to see me in the first place."

He scratched his head. "Funny thing was, I was pretty sure I'd met Diego once or twice when Lety was still working for us. He was only a little kid then. It seemed...too bad...that he'd had to get hurt playing football just to try to get a scholarship to pay for college."

"So was...Diego...okay?" By now, Veronica was completely caught up in his tale. "Did he get his football scholarship?"

"He did finally recover and he's doing great now. But no more football. They wouldn't let him play after such a severe injury."

"So...he didn't get to go to college?"

Logan's face closed down suddenly, as he just then realized where this conversation was heading.

"Uh, he was a good student and he managed to get another kind of scholarship," he said offhandedly.

But it was too late and she knew him too well.

"A new one, perhaps, endowed by an anonymous donor?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

Logan looked embarrassed, then gave a little laugh. "Nothing gets by you, does it?" he sighed. "It's called the Learning is an Adventure scholarship, and it's based on both merit and need. Diego was the first recipient, but it's given every year now."

He grinned suddenly. "You should have seen Lety Navarro's face when she heard that Diego was going to college." He looked at Veronica and shrugged, "I, uh, might have been in the back of the room when they announced the scholarship winner."

Veronica was silent for a moment. "And it was after that that you and Weevil became friends?"

"Yeah, but it wasn't just...that. We never actually talked about that. So...I don't know, we just...hit it off." He shrugged.

"You and Weevil...hit it off? So, what? Now you're having 'fun, fun, fun'?" Veronica couldn't help grinning.

A sheepish smile spread across Logan's face as he remembered a certain not-so-pleasant interaction with Weevil Navarro. "Am I ever gonna live that down?" he asked, shaking his head.

"Couldn't resist," Veronica said, laughing. "So what's Weevil doing now?"

"He owns an auto repair shop. Think I mentioned he got married last year to an elementary school teacher." He glanced at her to catch her reaction.

Veronica's mouth dropped. "And do they have any...?"

"Yeah," he said, his voice low, "just a few months old. A...girl, Lucinda."

Logan rose suddenly. "Let's keep going," he said. "Do you have a favorite place in the garden?"

"Lots of them, actually, but I guess my very favorite would be the footbridge. But it's kind of a long walk," she warned.

"And you think that you can walk further than I can?" he asked, incredulous. "Let's just see who runs out of steam first."

xxxxxxxx

They'd been running the facial recognition software for hours and getting nowhere.

"I told you it might take a while, Keith," Leo reminded him. "Even though we were able to set some parameters, there are still thousands of faces in the database for the program to sort through. And then...maybe... your guy isn't even _in_ the database."

Keith nodded. He'd known from the start it was a long shot, but Logan had seemed so sure that the guy was trouble, and even worse, trouble for Veronica, so he had to try. Couldn't just leave it.

"So, why don't you tell me where you got this picture?" Leo said. "A little story to help pass the time wouldn't hurt."

The smile never left Leo's pleasant face, but Keith could see that eventually Leo was going to want that question answered.

"I promise you, Leo, if we find a name, I'll tell you everything I know."

"Fair enough," Leo agreed.

While a couple of detectives had shown their faces earlier, Leo and Keith had mostly had the squad room to themselves. It was a Sunday, after all, and while policing was a 24/7 job, if they weren't in the middle of an active investigation, the detectives usually had their weekends off.

The men had gotten as comfortable as possible in a couple of office chairs and were on their third cup of coffee when a new head poked around the doorway.

"Hey, Leo, what the hell you doin' here on Sunday?" The newcomer looked curiously at Keith.

"Manny!" Keith thought Leo sounded surprised. "I thought you were working Gangs and Drugs these days. What're you doing here?"

Manny pointed toward the floor above. "Just wrapping up a case with the task force and finishing a mountain of paperwork." He looked curious. "You guys just sittin' around? There are places with better decor, ya know."

Leo laughed. "Hey, you had much luck with the facial recognition software?" he asked his colleague.

Manny came further into the room. "Nah! Don't use it much. I got my 'facial recognition software' right here." He pointed to his head.

By this time, Manny had made it all the way to the desk they were sitting at and Leo knew he'd have to make an introduction.

"Manny," he said, "meet an old friend of mine, Keith Mars, from Neptune. Keith, this is Manny Rivera, used to work undercover, but they promoted him to Gangs and Drugs," Leo finished his introductions with a grin.

"Yeah, very funny," Manny said. "So, who you tryna find?"

Leo picked up Keith's phone and pressed a few buttons.

"Here ya go, Manny," Leo said, smiling, showing him the picture. "Is this guy in your personal collection?"

Manny grabbed the phone, grinning, but his grin slowly faded. "Where'd you get this picture?" he asked. Leo nodded toward Keith, who answered. "It was taken in San Francisco."

Manny eyed them both. "Yeah," he said, "That'd be about right. Thing is," he continued, "you're never gonna find this guy in any software program cuz he's never been arrested. But I can tell ya who he is."

Leo and Keith both sat up straighter, unable to believe that after looking for hours, one chance meeting was going to get them their answer.

"Name's Vicente Salazar," Manny continued. "And I can tell ya right now whoever took this picture better not let Salazar know he's got it. These guys don't like their pictures makin' the circuit."

"These guys?" Keith asked.

Manny nodded.

"What you got here is a picture of a high-level member of the Gutierrez drug cartel. They look more like members of a board of directors than members of a gang, but they like to keep a low profile, and they definitely don't like having their pictures taken."

He continued. "This guy is near the top of the pyramid. And he's a smart guy. They don't get to be around as long as him if they're stupid."

"Why does the name Gutierrez ring a bell?" Keith asked.

"You're from Neptune?" Manny asked. When Keith nodded, he continued. "The Gutierrez family has a couple of punk cousins livin' in Neptune. Couple a real assholes, but they have power as long as their daddies are alive. Theoretically, they're higher up the food chain than this guy, and he mostly operates in NorCal, but I'd say he's one of the real powers behind the throne."

He eyed Keith curiously. "Mind if I send myself a copy of this? Update our files?"

"Yeah, sure," Keith said. "Help yourself."

"Whatever it is you're doin'," he said to Keith just before he left them, "watch yourself."

Leo eyed Keith. "I think I need a beer," he said after Manny left the room. "And I think maybe you got a story you want to tell me."

xxxxxxxx

They'd wound their way through a lot of the garden by the time Logan and Veronica made it to Veronica's favorite spot. The wooden footbridge shaped like a perfect half-circle was empty as they approached.

"I remember the first time I saw it," she said. "I couldn't imagine how anyone could get across it."

"And so you turned and walked away and looked for an easier path," he teased.

Logan had said it with a smile in his eyes, but she still gave him one of her trademark stubborn looks and he laughed in response.

"What I _did_," she said, looking as determined as she'd probably been on the first day she encountered the bridge, "was to figure out how to angle and balance my body so that I could cross it."

"Oh, you mean like this?" he said, running lightly up the slats on the bridge, until he reached the middle, where he stopped to wave at her. "Coming?" he asked.

Veronica muttered in frustration as her practiced steps followed his longer legs to the highest point on the bridge.

"How are you always so graceful?" she asked.

"Ballet lessons," he answered immediately, smirking. "I never really looked good in that tutu, but Mom insisted."

They'd made their way across the rest of the bridge and back onto the pathway before Veronica decided to voice her thought.

"You know, your mom would be so proud of you, Logan," she said softly.

"Yeah?" He looked at her. "I'd sure like to think so."

"She would. I know she would," Veronica assured him, smiling up at him.

They were both silent for a few minutes as they continued through the garden.

"So...Wallace? And Mac?" Veronica had been trying to make sense of how it was that everyone who'd meant anything to her had somehow become bosom buddies with Logan.

"Wallace is a great guy," he said, nodding his head at Veronica, "but you already knew that. Have you met his girlfriend, Emily?"

Veronica shook her head. "Not yet. They're supposed to be coming for a visit as soon as school is out. They're...pretty serious, right?"

"Oh, yeah," Logan said. "I think you can start looking for a dress to wear to the wedding."

Veronica smiled happily, thinking about Wallace's impending visit. "And...Mac?" she asked again. This was the friendship she'd found the most surprising.

"Mac." Logan stopped short and shook his head. "Mac came by to see me one day a long time ago at...just the right time. Before then, well, I wasn't really...approachable."

Veronica looked at him out of the corner of her eye as she began to feel a weight press down on her. They were getting dangerously close to topics that she wasn't ready to talk about. Would maybe never be ready to talk about.

But Logan seemed to sense her discomfort, and veered off in a different direction.

"Mac stops by whenever she's in town, and we usually get a meal. I...try to let Dick know when she might be coming so he can join us." He grinned at Veronica. "Dick has a little...uh...thing for Mac."

"What! You haven't encouraged this, I hope!" She was appalled.

"I neither encourage nor discourage. Not my business."

"But..._Dick_?"

"Hey, I was just about to offer you Dick! It sounds like you think I stole all your good friends, so I thought I should offer you someone in return, but all I have available is Dick," Logan teased.

Veronica shivered, but her eyes were mirthful. "I definitely do not want Dick."

"Are you absolutely sure about that?" Logan asked, grinning and waggling his eyebrows.

Veronica groaned. "What are you, 12 years old, Echolls? Still with the 'dick' jokes?"

For just an instant, Logan looked wistful, but then he smirked, "Me? You should see Dick's collection."

Veronica was sure she couldn't have heard right. "Dick has a collection of...dick jokes?" she asked, just in case that's what he'd really meant. But the expression on her face said that even Dick Casablancas couldn't be that idiotic.

"On his computer. He's afraid he'll forget them, so he keeps track of them in a file he's labeled Dick's dicks."

Logan waited for that to sink in.

Suddenly Veronica was giggling, Logan soon joined her, and then they were both laughing uncontrollably. Logan spotted a nearby bench and they both headed for it, sinking down and trying to catch their collective breaths.

They were still sprawled across the bench recovering from their laughter when Veronica felt the first pangs of hunger.

"So, there's a tea shop right around the corner," she said, eyeing him speculatively.

"A tea shop," he said, noncommittally. "Do you think they'd have any food?"

"They usually have these delicious little cakes," Veronica's said excitedly. Her eyes had closed, and she was practically drooling. When she opened them, she noted the grin on Logan's face.

"Walking all this way makes me hungry," she defended herself, and his grin only widened.

"Come on," he said obligingly. "I wouldn't want you fainting away."

They were lucky enough to have arrived at the shop just as a crowd was clearing out, and were immediately seated at a small table.

"A pot of tea for two," Veronica ordered enthusiastically when the waitress appeared, "and a plate of those iced cakes."

It was cozy in the shop, Veronica thought, looking across at Logan's smiling face. She felt comfortable. She was relaxed. She was enjoying herself. She was...happy.

She avoided pursuing that line of thought.

Logan watched as a dozen different expressions flitted across her face, and wondered what was going on inside her head.

"So, how did you end up as a prosecutor?" he asked, as they sipped their tea a few minutes later. "Not that I'm surprised. It seems like a perfect fit for the Veronica I...used to know."

Veronica studied Logan's face.

"How did I end up as a prosecutor? You know, it's...funny you should ask that. My boss...who's a great guy, by the way...asked me that same question a while back. He seems to think I have a...talent for it. That it comes naturally."

Logan's brows shot up and he smirked.

"Okay," Veronica said when she noticed the expression on Logan's face. "So maybe I do enjoy the cross-examination part just a little."

His look became smug and he waggled his brows.

"All right, all right!" She laughed self-deprecatingly. "A lot. I enjoy it a lot. But, hell, if everyone didn't lie, or at least try to hide things, then I wouldn't have to show the world what a bunch of losers they all are."

She grinned at him.

"But that's getting off the track," she continued. "What I was going to say before I was rudely interrupted..."

"Hey," he protested. "I didn't say a word!"

"Before I was _rudely interrupted_ by the smirk on your face," she continued, smiling, "is that my boss asked me that same question when I accepted the job. I'd...done pretty well in law school and he wanted to know why I wasn't going into corporate law at one of the big firms."

She looked at Logan again and her face was serious now. "And do you know what I wanted to say to him?" she asked, raising her brows inquisitively at him.

Logan shook his head.

"Logan Echolls. That's what I wanted to say. Logan Echolls is why I can take the job I really want..."

"Veronica." He did interrupt her then. "I think we've already been over this."

"Yeah," she said. "I know. But you asked the question and that's the real answer."

"But I'm guessing it's not the answer you gave your boss," he said.

"Nope. I told him it was either a prosecutor or a defense attorney, and a couple of months later, he told me he was glad I'd come down on the side of law and order."

Logan chuckled when he heard that. "If he only knew," he said, and they both smiled, remembering all the times that Veronica had played fast and loose with a law or two.

Logan grabbed another cake before Veronica could eat them all.

"And...Garcia?" he asked, trying his best to make it a casual question. "How does he fit in?"

But her face shut down immediately, and he knew she wasn't going to discuss...her fiancé...with him.

"Okay," he tried again. "How about this? How long have you been engaged?"

He could see her thinking, deciding if she should answer that question.

"Only a few weeks," she said finally.

"Look, I know you don't want to talk about him with...me, but I just gotta say I was surprised that you'd ever want to be a political wife."

An expression of distaste crossed her face. "I didn't know he was going to run for office," she said.

"You didn't know!" Logan could hardly believe it. "He didn't tell you..."

"I think we need to change the subject," Veronica said, her earlier smiles gone.

Logan thought about Chardo Navarro, and about the unknown man that Keith Mars was even now trying to identify, and he wondered exactly how long a discussion about Matthew Garcia could be avoided. But he knew that he'd need to have a lot more facts before he'd be able to persuade Veronica to listen to anything he had to say about the man.

"Okay," he finally said. "What would you like to talk about instead?"

"Well, it occurs to me that you still haven't told me about...the divorce. About...what went wrong."

"You're right," Logan said, sighing. "The short version is that Cliff doesn't know why, but the agreement was never recorded."

"And what's the long version? What brought it all to light?"

Logan was a little embarrassed, but couldn't see his away around telling Veronica the truth. He knew she'd just worm it out of him anyway.

"Do you remember that...day at the mall when we ran into Madison Sinclair?" he asked.

Veronica nodded, but it was clear from her expression that she wondered how Madison could possibly fit into the story.

"Yeah, well apparently Madison figured out that we were...married. Maybe she...saw our rings, I don't know." He shrugged.

Veronica nodded. "Okay," she said.

"Dick had a party a couple of weeks ago and I guess he invited Madison. Anyway, when I got there with...my date, Madison was there. This next part, well I'm not really sure what happened, who said what to whom, but the next thing I know, a couple of days later my girl..uh, date...is at my door, screaming at me because I never told her I was married."

"So," Veronica said diffidently, "your _girlfriend_ found out about the marriage somehow."

She tried to keep her face expressionless, but Logan was almost sure that she hadn't been happy to hear about a girlfriend. And the last thing he wanted were any more misunderstandings.

"Ex-girlfriend," he corrected. "And it was _never_ a serious relationship."

He looked closely at Veronica then, trying to determine if that disclosure was having any effect, but she just shrugged.

"She'd had her dad look into the county records, something we could have done at any time ourselves, I guess, but I just assumed..."

"Me, too," she agreed.

"So there was a record of the marriage, but not the divorce. When she told me, at first I didn't believe her, but the next day I went to see Cliff. He looked in his files, went online, even went directly to the county records office, and that's when he realized something had gone wrong."

Logan explained to Veronica about Cliff's secretary, about the flood, about Cliff's disregarded 'tickler file'.

When he got to end of his tale, he sighed. "Cliff says we should report him to the bar for neglecting to fulfill his legal duty. What do you think?"

Veronica looked at him oddly. "Are you kidding?" she asked.

Logan gave a little half-smile. "As a matter of fact," he said, "I am. But I could...that is, do you want me to...find somebody else to do the...agreement this go round?"

"Oh," she said, frowning. "I don't know. Do you want to?"

"No, I don't think it's necessary. I wouldn't want to have to...explain...everything to a stranger. And I'm pretty sure it will be at the top of Cliff's priority list."

Logan paused. "I think you should know that it's not going to be quite as simple this time around, though. Community property state," he explained.

"Oh, well," Veronica said, shrugging her narrow shoulders gracefully. "There's...no hurry. Um, I'm sure it will all get worked out eventually."

Logan shook his head, disbelieving. _That's all she has to say? Where are the recriminations, the denunciations, the reprimands?_

"What's the matter?" she asked, frowning, catching his look.

"Nothing," he said. "Nothing at all. I guess I just thought you'd be, I don't know, angrier."

"With you?" she wanted to know. "It's not your fault." She paused. "Is it?"

Logan threw his hands out and shrugged his shoulders. "I guess..."

"What?" Veronica stopped in the act of pouring out the last of the tea. "Tell me."

"Well..." The smart thing, he thought, would be to leave well enough alone, but then he'd never been very smart when it came to Veronica Mars.

"There have been times in the past," Logan said finally, "when you might have blamed me for something that...wasn't my fault."

Oh, god, he thought, would he never learn to keep his mouth shut? And they'd had such a great afternoon.

But for once, Veronica Mars surprised him.

"I know," she admitted with a wry smile. "I'm trying not to do that anymore."

xxxxxxxx

They'd settled into the small living room in Leo's bungalow with an extra-large pepperoni pizza and a couple of beers.

"This was a great idea, Leo," Keith said. "I was starving."

Leo eyed him over the top of his bottle. "Hell, you bought the pizza."

"Well, it was the least I could do," Keith began, when Leo cut him off.

"Look, Keith, cut the crap. Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?"

Keith sighed. "I can only tell you what I know myself, and that's almost nothing."

"Who took that picture?"

Keith hesitated for just a heartbeat. "Logan Echolls," he said.

If Keith had answered "The Pope," Leo didn't think he could have been more surprised.

"_Logan Echolls_. That's a name I haven't heard for a while." He eyed Keith thoughtfully. "He and...Veronica...are still...?" He left the question unfinished.

Keith shrugged. "Not...exactly. They...had been close...a while back." Keith shook his head in frustration, "Veronica lives in San Francisco, but I have no idea what Logan is doing there."

"So they aren't...together...now?" Leo asked.

"No," Keith said, "that's the one thing I'm sure of. Veronica is actually engaged to another man."

Leo nodded. "So what now?" he asked.

Keith swallowed the last bite of pizza and took the last swig of his beer.

"Now I think I call Logan and ask him exactly what you asked me. What the hell is going on and what does it have to do with my daughter?"

xxxxxxxx

By the time they'd finished their tea and cakes, Logan could tell by the expression on her face that Veronica was about to put an end to their outing.

"Look, Veronica, before you go, I just want apologize again for the other night. I never planned to drop that on you like that. It was childish of me. And selfish."

Veronica smiled. "I think I'll give you a pass based on extreme provocation."

By then, they were walking down a path that the signs said led to the exit, and Logan wanted to make sure she understood. But her next words led him to believe that maybe she understood him all too well.

"But you did somehow get yourself invited to the Farnsworths' dinner. Did you know I'd be there?" she wanted to know.

Logan knew he'd have to come clean. "I knew...Garcia would be there. If I'd known you were coming before I got there...Veronica, I never would have blindsided you like that." He could only hope she believed him.

"But you did know Matthew would be there...and you knew about us. About our engagement, I mean."

She'd made it a statement rather than a question, but he still nodded reluctantly.

"But...why, Logan? What did you hope to gain?"

Logan shrugged, feeling stupider than he had in a long time. He thought he'd achieved some maturity over the years, but he knew his near-stalking of Matthew Garcia made him look ridiculous.

He tried to be as honest as he could.

"I guess I wanted to meet the man who had...taken my place. The man who was going to be able to claim you as his wife."

Veronica's mouth dropped open in surprise, but then she gave him a little smile.

"Nobody could ever take your place, Logan, you know that."

They stood there then, just outside the exit to the Japanese Tea Garden, staring at each other, neither knowing exactly what to do next. At last, Veronica offered Logan her hand, and he took it. They shook solemnly, and Logan couldn't help thinking about the last time they'd shaken hands like this, when she'd finally accepted his marriage proposal.

Veronica pulled her hand back and gave him another smile. "So you'll be in touch," she said.

He nodded and they turned away in opposite directions. He'd already taken a few steps but suddenly there was an insistent drumbeat in Logan's head that he found impossible to ignore. '_Screw the handshake'_, it said. He turned back abruptly, a half dozen long strides and he was touching her shoulder.

"Veronica," he said, grasping her arm and turning her around, wrapping her in his embrace. The sensation of having her in his arms again nearly overwhelmed him. When she didn't push him away, he pulled her closer still, and she twined her arms around his waist and laid her head against his chest.

Her hair still smelled of coconut, and everything about her was still so essentially Veronica that he nearly wept with relief. He hadn't been quite sure, but now he knew. In all the important ways, she was still the same, still his Veronica.

He could feel her pulling away then, and he heard her sigh, as if she were doing so reluctantly, as if she would stay there with him forever, just as he would.

"Have to go," she murmured suddenly, without looking at him, and ran off into the crowd toward the bus stop. He stood there watching her back until she disappeared from view.

xxxxxxxx

Logan was nearly back to the parking lot when he felt his phone vibrate, as it had several times in the last hour, but this time he pulled it out to answer. _Keith Mars_, his Caller ID said.

"Keith.." he began.

"Logan," Keith interrupted him. "I've been trying to get you for an hour!" He sounded exasperated.

"I'm sorry..." It was all he got out before Keith interrupted him again.

"What the hell is going on, Logan? I need to know what my daughter has gotten herself mixed up in."

"Veronica hasn't done anything wrong, Keith," he hastened to explain. "Did you find out who the guy is?"

"Yes," Keith said. "And it didn't make me happy."

Damn! In his gut, Logan had known something was wrong as soon as he'd spotted Chardo Navarro.

"I don't think we should talk about this over the phone," he said. "Are you at home?"

"No, I'm in San Diego. At Leo's."

"Leo's? _Deputy_ Leo?"

"That's _Detective_ Leo, now, Logan. SDPD."

"Okay. San Diego is even easier. Text me his address. I'm going to take the first shuttle I can get a seat on. I'll let you know once I've booked a ticket."

"Logan..."

"Hanging up now, Keith. See you soon."

Logan looked at his watch. _5:30_. He couldn't believe he'd spent three and a half hours in the garden with Veronica. It hadn't felt like half that long.

It was Sunday night and he knew the shuttle between San Francisco and San Diego would be busy, but Logan crossed his fingers. He counted himself lucky to get the last available seat on the 7 o'clock flight and decided that he didn't have time for even a brief stop at his hotel.

Logan called the hotel and told them he'd be gone for a day or two, but retained his room, then drove to the airport and left his rental car in long-term parking. He got through security but had to hustle to make it to the gate in time.

It was only when he was finally in his seat, and on his way to San Diego, that he allowed himself free rein to worry about just what kind of mess Veronica might really be in.


	12. Part II - Chapter 7

Part II - Chapter 7

She sat there in the gathering dusk, not realizing that the sun had set. The twilight glow still lingered outside, but it was getting dark inside her flat. She knew that turning on the lights would probably be a good idea, but Veronica couldn't seem to move.

She'd barely made it back to her apartment. It was only by force of habit that she'd managed to get onto the right bus, and off again at the stop near her building. She'd run up the stairs and unlocked her door, but once inside Veronica had simply curled up in the corner of her couch. She'd been there ever since.

And she'd been asking herself the same question over and over. How could this have happened? How could she have _let_ it happen?

Veronica had been so happy that morning as she anticipated spending the afternoon with Logan. In all the years since she'd left Neptune, thoughts of him had lingered somewhere in the recesses of her mind. He was too important, had been too intimately woven into the fabric of her being to ever leave behind completely. But at the same time it had been too painful to talk about him, and eventually, without her saying a word, none of them ever mentioned Logan's name or even alluded to his existence.

Not her dad, who still lived in Neptune and probably knew everything about him. Not Wallace, who apparently was now his poker buddy and sometime business partner. Not Mac, who'd become his friend and confidante.

She'd only wanted to protect herself, but it had backfired, because she hadn't been prepared. She'd become complacent, convinced that not talking about him meant that she was no longer susceptible. That she could relegate Logan Echolls to that category of acquaintances known as "old friends." She'd thought she could step close to the fire and not get burned. And she'd almost gotten away with it.

They'd had such a wonderful time, she and Logan. Talking and laughing. Teasing. She'd been nervous as she waited for him, but then he'd arrived and...everything had felt so natural. Like they'd never been apart at all. And she'd thought to herself,_'Why did I stay away from him for so long? He's my oldest friend. What was I so afraid of?'_

They'd sat there having tea and cakes and she'd been so sure that the legal mess would get straightened out, and then she could get back to her life, her new life. But _this_ time, she wouldn't have to give him up. _This_ time she could keep his friendship. She'd been excited. And happy.

When they'd parted, she'd put out her hand a little tentatively. She'd meant it as a peace offering, had intended for the gesture to emphasize the very ordinariness of their relationship. After her reaction to his touch on Friday, she'd known it was important to keep physical contact to a minimum. But it had been fine. Just a little jolt of awareness, and as she turned away, she'd already half-persuaded herself that it was only because she hadn't seen him in so long.

And then, oh, god, he'd turned back, and his legs were so long, it must have taken him only a couple of strides to reach her, and he'd grabbed her and pulled her around and into his arms.

In a split second, she'd understood that everything she'd been telling herself all afternoon had been a lie.

Veronica sat there in the dark, remembering the feel of his body against hers. She closed her eyes and recalled his scent, that combination of grooming and nature that was so essentially Logan. She remembered how she'd wanted to melt into him. How she'd had to stop herself from reaching up to touch his face, his hair. How she hadn't been able to resist leaning into him, clutching at his waist.

Veronica had no idea how long they'd stood there near the exit of the Japanese Tea Garden and just held onto each other. Her heart had been racing, her body had been trembling, and she'd wanted to stay there in his arms forever.

Until she'd finally managed to pull herself together and just bolted. Run away like a scared little girl.

Veronica had been sitting for hours now, and as much as she wanted to come to some other conclusion - really, to _any_ other conclusion - she knew in her heart that she wasn't going to be able to keep him after all.

xxxxxxxx

Logan spent most of his ninety-minute plane ride trying to figure out how his life had so quickly spun completely out of control.

First had come the revelation that he and Veronica were still married. He'd barely slept the night that Sabrina Colbert had flung that at him, wondering if it could be true. Hoping that it was true because maybe that would have been a sign from the universe that he should do what he'd once sworn he never would. Go after Veronica.

But he'd barely had time to rejoice over Cliff's confirmation that they were, in fact, still married before he'd been plunged back into the abyss by the news that Veronica had a fiancé.

Since then, _nothing_ had happened in a way he could have predicted.

The first surprise had been the man Veronica was supposed to marry. He knew there'd been very little chance that he'd actually _like_ Veronica's intended. Not only was he slated to become Logan's replacement, he was also the insurmountable obstacle standing in the way of his happiness.

But he _had_ expected to respect him. Garcia's biography had read like something right out of Dickens, and who wouldn't respect a modern-day David Copperfield? And of course, as the final affirmation of Garcia's worth, Veronica had agreed to marry him. That alone suggested he must be laudable, admirable, a fucking _prince_ among men.

But when they'd finally met, Logan had found that Matthew Garcia was instead an arrogant prick who appeared to take for granted the most remarkable woman that Logan had ever known. So while he'd prepared himself to be selfless, it had been a relief to be able to despise the bastard.

This afternoon with Veronica, he'd delayed broaching the fuck-up with the divorce until she'd brought it up herself because he'd been so certain that she'd be angry about it, and he really hadn't wanted to ruin the mood. He was even prepared for the slight chance that she might somehow blame him. But she wasn't angry. And she hadn't blamed him. Surprise number two.

And then he'd thought that at the very least, she might berate him for being a jackass, for the way he'd lost control and blurted out information that should have been conveyed in private. But she'd been...surprisingly understanding about his lack of restraint.

Logan shook his head and sighed. And then...to find out about that crazy...misunderstanding. He hadn't wanted to read too much into it, but why the hell would she ever think he could become seriously involved with another woman only a few months after she left?

And exactly what the fuck had Dick said to her anyway? And more than that, why the hell hadn't Dick even told him that he'd _seen_ Veronica? If he'd told Logan, if he'd _repeated _his conversation with Veronica, just maybe the crazy miscommunication could have been avoided. Maybe Veronica wouldn't have thought he'd moved on. Maybe she wouldn't have started seeing Garcia. Maybe she'd never have agreed to marry him.

And maybe it would have made no fucking difference at all. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, or his ego, and maybe Veronica would have started dating Garcia no matter what. _Too goddamn many 'maybes'._

But, dammit, there was one thing he had no doubts about. One thing about which there were no 'maybes'. Veronica still...reacted to him.

He'd thought he'd seen it when her eyes had locked onto him at the dinner party on Thursday. He'd felt that same old familiar pull, and he would have sworn that just at first, when she'd been almost overwhelmed with shock, before she'd been able to hide it, she had, too.

And then on Friday, when Evie had been all over him, he knew Veronica had been jealous. He'd dealt with enough jealous women in his life and he couldn't have mistaken the look, even though she'd tried to mask it. Then she'd caressed his hand briefly before she got into the cab, and maybe he was the only one who felt the shock of touching her after all that time. But he didn't think so.

But, hell, even if all that had been his imagination, the connection, the jealousy, the physical reaction, today he'd been sure. Today, in the garden, that hadn't been his imagination. This afternoon, when he couldn't contain himself any longer, when he'd simply had to know if she would feel the same in his arms as she always had, today he hadn't been mistaken.

His reaction to her nearness had been immediate, and physical, and nearly overwhelming, and in many ways, it was good that she'd run off. Because when he'd felt Veronica clutch at him and tremble in his arms, he'd been so close to just lowering his head and brushing his lips across hers, just to see if they were as impossibly soft as he remembered. But that would have been a disaster. Because if he'd kissed her, if he'd felt her kissing him back, he was pretty sure he wouldn't have been able to let go of her at all.

Logan sighed. He hadn't drunk to excess in a long time, but if he hadn't had to drive to Dep..Detective Leo's house, he'd have been sorely tempted to discover just how many gin and tonics he could consume before the plane landed. He could have booked into one of those hotels near the airport to sleep it off.

As it was, he needed to remain clear-headed if he was going to make sure they found a way to keep Veronica safe.

xxxxxxxx

"Ah, is that pizza I see?" Logan had spotted the telltale cardboard boxes on Leo's coffee table.

"Help yourself, man. You want me to warm it up for you?" Leo was a little uncomfortable playing host to a man he hadn't seen since they'd conspired to commit a felony a decade earlier.

"No, this is good. Sorry. I haven't had much to eat today except cake." He huffed a laugh. "And they only serve peanuts on the shuttles. After I asked for a fourth bag, the flight attendant looked like she thought I might try to hijack the snack trolley."

"Logan..." Impatience was practically oozing out of Keith's pores.

"Sorry, Keith. I can talk and eat at the same time, no problem," Logan said, chewing his pizza and at the same time pulling out his phone. "Here's the original picture I took yesterday."

He showed the other two the picture of Chardo Navarro and the older guy.

"Does that building in the background look familiar to you?" he asked Keith.

Keith shook his head. "Should it?"

Logan shrugged. "Matthew Garcia's condo is on the top floor."

Keith's eyes narrowed. "And how the hell would you know that, Logan? Have you been...stalking my daughter?"

Leo's confusion was evident. "Who's Matthew Garcia?" He looked at the other two, who seemed to be having a staring contest.

Logan shook his head at Keith and sighed. "I'm going to have to bring Leo here up to speed if we're gonna figure this out. And, Keith, there are a couple of things that you're not aware of, either."

Logan sat there for a moment wondering how to begin. He shrugged finally, opting for short and simple.

"Leo...you need to know that about six years ago, Veronica and I, well, we got married."

He took a swig of his beer and waited for Leo's reaction.

But Leo merely nodded. "And...?" he said. "Something obviously happened because she's in San Francisco and you're still living in Neptune."

"Yeah," Logan said with a smirk. "I can see why they made you a detective."

"Logan..." Keith shook his head.

"Sorry." He shook his own head as if to clear it. "We were divorced just a couple of months after we married, Detective. Or at least, that's what we'd always assumed."

"What the hell does _that_ mean?" Keith demanded, right on cue.

Logan swung his head toward Keith. "Apparently, the divorce agreement that Veronica and I both signed never made it to the court. Never was recorded. You can ask Cliff about it if you want, Keith. He's the one who confirmed it for me. I'll call him and tell him it's okay to talk to you about it."

Logan paused, giving Keith a little time to digest what he'd just been told.

"But...how did it all come to light?" Keith couldn't help asking.

Logan gave a rueful little laugh. "Does it really matter?" He answered Keith's question with one of his own, and Keith shook his head.

"So you and Veronica...? Leo interjected.

Logan pressed his lips together and nodded his head. "Yup. Still married."

"So you went to San Francisco to...what...tell Veronica?" Keith was finally able to make some sense of it. "And you...met Garcia?"

Logan nodded and Leo asked again, "Who's Garcia?"

Logan smirked. "Veronica's...fiancé. For now," he added, not even trying to keep the disdain from his voice.

"I met his daughter, Evie, too," Logan continued. "She invited me to lunch on Saturday, and while I was waiting for her in front of Garcia's building, I saw her come out with...these two. I recognized the young guy, but I couldn't place him. Mac recognized him as a PCHer right away, but she didn't remember his name. So I sent his picture - just the younger guy - to Weevil,"

"Mac?" Keith asked, concerned. "You got Mac involved in this?"

"Well the thing is, Keith," Logan said defensively, "when I asked for her help I didn't know there was a 'this' to be involved in. I was just...curious."

"Curious about?"

"About who the guy was. Where I might know him from."

"So who is he?" Leo asked.

"Chardo Navarro, black sheep cousin of the Navarro _familia_." Logan waited for Keith's reaction.

"Chardo!" Keith exclaimed. "I never would have recognized him."

"Yeah, well I guess I should have remembered the asshole who stole from my family so he could impress the girl he was banging, who also happened to be my girlfriend of the moment, and then let his grandmother take the rap," Logan said, shaking his head. "But he hasn't really aged all that well. I asked Weevil to find out what Lety knew about Chardo, but all she'd say was that he'd gotten mixed up with some drug dealers."

Logan looked at Keith. "That's when I decided to send you the picture of the old guy. So who the hell is he, Keith?" He'd been stewing over the old guy's identity all the way to San Diego.

Keith and Leo glanced at each other, but it was Leo who finally answered Logan's question.

"One of our detectives in the Gangs and Drugs Unit - a guy I respect and trust - identified him as Vicente Salazar...a high-ranking and powerful member of the Gutierrez drug cartel."

"Well, fuck me!" Logan said. That was truly a worst-case scenario.

"Logan, just what does this all have to do with Veronica?" This was the part the Keith hadn't understood, although if that was Garcia's building...

"Well," he said, "if you consider that the old guy - Salazar? - kissed Evie Garcia on the cheek as they were coming out of the building together, and that when I asked her who he was, she said he was her father's _padrino_, I'd say that might connect up with Veronica."

Logan ran his hands through his hair, becoming more and more agitated.

"_Padrino_?" Leo asked.

"Garcia refers to him as '_padrino'. _Evie said it means 'mentor' or 'sponsor'. But you know, I was thinking it might really be more like...'godfather'," he said derisively. "And it looks like I was right."

Keith was silent for a moment.

"I don't understand," he said. "I've only met the guy a couple of times, but Veronica described Garcia as someone who overcame a deprived childhood..." His voice trailed off.

"Yeah," Logan said. "That's the story I got when I Googled him, and his daughter said the same thing. Good student, church scholarships, yada, yada, yada."

Logan clenched his fists in an effort to control his turmoil.

"But what if it's all bullshit, Keith? What if it was the Gutierrez family that paid for his education, by way of his _padrino_, Señor Salazar? And now Garcia is running for Attorney General? Maybe his _padrino_ is still 'sponsoring' him."

"Wait!" Leo said. "The guy's running for office?" He looked at Keith. "Logan's right. The official story could all be crap, and if this guy ever became AG, well, that could affect law enforcement all over the state."

"I know you're right, Leo, but right now I'm a lot more worried about Veronica," Keith said. "Suppose Garcia does turn out to be some cartel...asset. It would be dangerous for her if they thought she'd found out. If this...if Logan's information about Salazar's connection to Garcia turns out to be accurate, I just want her out of that situation."

Logan turned to Keith, his temper starting to rise. "What? You think I made that up? That it's all some kind of ruse to get Veronica back?"

"Logan..." Keith ran his hand across the top of his head in frustration. "No, of course I don't think that."

He sighed and turned to Leo. "I think we need to look into Garcia's background thoroughly. Supposedly, he'd lived with his grandmother, although it's doubtful she'd still be alive. But...those church scholarships. Maybe the parish priest knows something about them, if they actually existed."

Logan could see him thinking furiously about the best way to approach this.

"You know someone at the LAPD you can trust, Leo?" Keith finally asked the younger man. "Because I do have a couple of contacts of my own. Strictly unofficial, of course."

Leo looked thoughtful. "While I'm a little concerned about some guy with a phony background running for office, at this point I'm a lot more concerned about Veronica. I think...if you've got good contacts, people you can trust...that we ought to go the unofficial route. At least for now. As long as whoever you ask can't be traced back to you. That wouldn't help Veronica, either."

Keith considered, then nodded his head. "I agree," he said. "Let's keep this on the DL until we know what we've got."

"And what the fuck am I supposed to do while you detectives are out...detecting?!" Logan threw out his arms in frustration.

"Go home, Logan," Keith said. "Get some rest. Take care of your business."

For a moment, the years fell away and Logan looked as mutinous as Keith had ever seen him.

And then he clapped Logan on the shoulder and added, "If we find out what I'm afraid we're going to, you and I will both be taking a trip back to San Francisco to explain it all to Veronica. I wouldn't consider going without you."

"You got that right," Logan said, but his belligerence had fled. He nodded at the other two, picked up his car keys and headed out the door.

xxxxxxx

After Logan left Leo's, Keith considered how best to proceed. He needed some information and it had to be quick and it had to be off the record. He knew only one person who could help him when he had those kinds of restrictions, so he reluctantly made the call.

"Hi, Mac," he said when she answered. "Sorry to be calling so late."

"Keith," Mac said, and he thought she sounded a little wary. "How have you been?"

"Well, I've been better. Logan was just here."

There was a pause, and he could almost hear Mac's thoughts across the line.

"He...he told you?" He heard the disbelief in her voice.

"He had to, Mac, and that's not really the issue here, anyway."

Mac exhaled loudly into the phone. "Maybe you better just tell me why you called," she said.

"Okay," Keith said, "how do you feel about hacking into the records of the Roman Catholic Church? Specifically, the personnel records for the Archdiocese of Los Angeles from about 30 years ago?"

"You know, even Veronica never asked me to do anything quite so...sacrilegious. But I assume you have a good reason for this request?" It was definitely a question.

"If I promise to tell you all about it very soon, do you think we could just skip past my reasons for the moment?" Keith didn't want to tell her anything about their investigation until he had something definitive.

"Very soon? Does this mean you're coming for a visit?" she asked.

"It's a strong possibility," he said. "But right now, Mac, I could really use your help."

"Okay," she said finally. "I'm going to assume this has something to do with Logan or Veronica and that you wouldn't ask if you had a choice. So shoot."

Keith had looked through every article he could find on the Internet about Matthew Garcia, but had found no information about his early life, other than the vague references to his church-sponsored scholarships. He'd almost given up, when he saw a casual mention of Our Lady of Guadalupe Church in the heart of East LA. Gotcha, he'd thought.

"Thanks, Mac," he said now. "I need the name of the pastor of Our Lady of Guadalupe Church in East LA between about 1980 and 1985. Then, if he's still alive, I need to know where he is now."

"And what if he's...not still alive?" she asked.

"Well, then, we've hit a dead end and I'll have to think of something else. But let's hope for the best."

It was after midnight when Mac called back. "I found your guy, Keith," she said excitedly. "Father Ernesto Alvarez. Right now, he's residing at the St. Ignatius Retirement Home in Santa Barbara."

"Mac, you're a lifesaver. And unfortunately, that may not just be a figure of speech. I have a feeling I'm going to be seeing you soon."

After Keith had hung up, his next call had been to the best con man he knew, or at least the best one he knew who was no longer on the game.

"Hi, Trini...Keith Mars. Sorry if I woke you. Got anything on for tomorrow?"

xxxxxxxx

Over the years, Keith Mars had asked Trini Acevedo to do a lot of crazy things, dig into a lot of crazy shit. But never before had he sent him to a priests' retirement home.

It kinda gave Trini the creeps. He didn't spend time in churches, that was for sure, and he tried to stay as far away from priests as possible. But he'd owed Keith since he was a kid, and besides, he could always use the extra dough. Keith always paid pretty good.

Keith had been a rookie cop and Trini an adolescent when they'd met. Keith had found a way to help him put his talent as a con man to better use in the entertainment industry after Trini's father had been killed by an unhappy mark. Over the years, he'd built up a solid resume of small character parts, and he made a decent living, but sometimes he missed the thrill of the con. He enjoyed keeping his hand in by occasionally working on a "special project" for Keith.

This time, he was a remorseful parishioner who wanted to confess that he'd eavesdropped on a conversation between the priest and another man years before when he'd been an altar boy. (He liked that part. Just the idea of himself as an "altar boy" made him chuckle.). He'd have to pretend to be a little younger than he was, but that was no trouble for Trini.

The conversation he was supposed to have overheard was about a kid called Mateo Garcia. Now Trini knew a lot of Garcias, hell, it was as common a name as Smith was in the Anglo community, but he'd never heard of a Mateo. The priest didn't have to know that, though.

Trini would be very remorseful - and very convincing. He'd be telling the priest a story, but what he really needed was for the priest to tell _him_ what he needed to know. But that's what a con man did, and Trini had learned from the best. He knew that if this guy had the information Keith needed, Trini'd soon get it out of him.

Here it was, he thought pulling through the gates of the Retirement Home in Santa Barbara. He looked around at the beautiful grounds thinking that maybe he'd missed his calling. Trini didn't have a family and he wondered sometimes who'd care for him in his old age. But then he laughed at himself. Him a priest? Not fuckin' likely.

It looked like the old guys didn't get many visitors, because he had no trouble at all when he asked to see "his old parish priest" Fr. Alvarez. He'd been afraid that the priest, who was well into his eighties now according to Keith, would be drooling into his chin, but that wasn't the case. He was sitting outside on a bench, enjoying the one sunny day they'd had that week. There was a walker in front of him, so maybe he was little frail, but he looked alert. Thank fuck, Trini thought.

"Fr. Alvarez? It is Fr. Alvarez, isn't it?" The old guy nodded and Trini sat down in the seat next to him.

"Finally!" Trini looked overjoyed but the old priest was perplexed.

"Do I know you?" he asked Trini.

"It's me, Fr. Alvarez, Tomas Martinez. Don't tell me you've forgotten? I was an altar boy at Our Lady of Guadalupe for four years and I don't think I ever got to Mass on time once in all those years."

Trini smiled at the old priest and, like most people, particularly older people, the priest didn't want to admit that he didn't remember him. Which if he had, Trini figured, it would have been a fucking miracle, since Trini had never met this guy in his life and had no idea where in hell Our Lady of Guadalupe was. He was following Keith's script.

"Of course, my son, of course. How are you these days, Tomas?"

"Oh, well enough," Trini told the priest. "But I had a helluva...uh, excuse me, Father, I had a terrible time finding you."

"I'm sorry to have put you to so much trouble. How can I help you?"

"Well, I...I guess I have a confession to make."

"Confession? Surely you could go to your own priest for that?" His confusion was apparent.

"Oh, no, it's not that kind of confession." Trini's smile was the most ingratiating version that he had to offer. "It's a confession about something that I did years ago, when I was an altar boy."

"I see," said the old priest. "Well, it couldn't have been so very terrible if you were just a _muchacho._ I'm sure that God has forgiven you."

"It's not God's forgiveness that I'm looking for, Father, it's...yours," he said.

"Mine, Tomas? What could you have done to me?"

"I...invaded your privacy. And you a priest. I eavesdropped on a conversation that you had with an important man. It was in the church. You..you didn't know I was there." Trini hung his head, as though in shame.

"Which important man was that?" the priest said, suddenly wary.

"I don't know _his_ name, but I remember the name of the boy you were talking about. It was Mateo. Mateo Garcia. The important man was telling you that he would pay for the boy's education, but you must say that the church was sponsoring the boy. I think maybe he even spoke about a new roof for the church? That part I don't remember exactly, but the school fees for the boy, that I remember."

For a moment, the old priest said nothing.

"You...heard such a conversation, Tomas?" Trini could see him thinking back, wondering if there had ever _been_ such a conversation inside the church.

"My mother, God rest her soul," here Trini crossed himself, a little 'business' never hurt, he thought, "she'd have been so ashamed if she knew I'd disrespected a priest that way."

"And...why did you listen?" By now, Trini knew that Fr. Alvarez had bought the story completely.

Trini shrugged. "I was a kid, I was jealous of Mateo's good fortune." He shook his head. "Here you were, you and this man were doing God's work, and I failed to show you the respect you deserved."

For a long time, the priest said nothing. Finally he sighed and murmured, half to himself, "It was a parish hall."

"What was, Father?" Trini asked, and this time his confusion was genuine.

"It was a parish hall that Salazar promised, not a new roof. And he delivered." The priest sighed. "And I was never sure that we were doing God's work,Tomas. But the rest of the boys and girls, they needed that hall, so I did as I was asked."

"Well, I'm sure Mateo was grateful, Father." Trini decided to add a little to the script.

"I'm sure that he was. Who wouldn't be grateful for eleven years of schooling that would be sure to bring him great success?"

Fr. Alvarez had a faraway look in his eyes as he uttered softly, "_For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his soul?" _

Trini knew he was out of his depth when priests started quoting scripture.

"Do you know whatever happened to Mateo Garcia, Father?"

"No, Tomas...and I don't want to know."

He looked Trini in the eye then, and his expression was determined. "Now that you have confessed this...indiscretion to me, you must forget all about that conversation. Forget you ever heard it. Forget about Mateo. Promise me, Tomas."

"Of course, Father. I'm just so relieved. I'll forget about everything we talked about," he assured the old priest.

Just as soon as I tell it all to Keith Mars.

As soon as Keith heard Trini's story - in which even the name 'Salazar' had been mentioned - he knew he'd couldn't put off telling Veronica. But it was also something he needed to explain in person. He decided to call her and let her know he'd be up to see her the next day.

xxxxxxxx

Logan had barely gotten out of bed that Monday morning before he was grabbing for his phone to call Keith. But all Keith would tell him was that he had someone working on it, on finding out the real story on Matthew Garcia.

_Fuck_! How the hell was he supposed to be able to concentrate on anything today with all the questions that were still swirling around in his head. The most important of which was how they were going to keep Veronica safe. Over the years, Logan had learned to cope with stress in healthy ways, but he hadn't had to deal with worrying about Veronica in a long time, and he knew that he needed something to occupy him if he was going to keep from going crazy.

He'd been about to step into the shower when a sudden thought had him changing direction, heading instead to the room off the garage where he kept his surfing gear. He had his phone up to his ear before he could think better of it.

"Dick? Hey, grab your board and meet me at the beach...yeah, right now."

Logan drove to the beach and had barely climbed into his wetsuit when Dick pulled up and jumped out of his car, carrying his board under his arm.

"I called you at least a half a dozen times in the past few days and you never called back once. Now you suddenly want to go surfing on a Monday morning. What the hell's going on, Dude?"

Logan laughed. "Hey, I remember a Dick Casablancas who wouldn't have cared what day of the week it was. Who didn't _know_ what day of the week it was."

"Yeah, well, that's your fault. I had to waste a shitload of money getting one of my part-time guys to cover for me. Hardly anyone comes in on Monday. I usually use the time to catch up on the books and shit while I'm watching the shop." Dick was just a little disgruntled.

Logan stopped in his tracks, suddenly sober. "I'm sorry, Bro. I just needed a...distraction today. Look, if you want to go back to the surf shop..."

"Nah," Dick clapped him in the shoulder. "If you need company, I'm your guy."

Logan grinned and they wasted no further time in conversation. Dick and Logan had surfed together thousands of times and there was a rhythm to their play. The surf was a little rough today and they knew better than to lose concentration, so their focus was entirely on the water. If Logan threw himself at the waves with a little more frenzy than usual, Dick didn't seem to notice, or if he did notice, he refrained from comment.

It was good exercise and they both loved it, but after a while, even the most enthusiastic of surfers needed a break.

"What do you say I buy you lunch?" Logan offered, as they fell onto the sand.

"Okay, " Dick was agreeable, "as long as it's Mexican. And as long as I can get a shower first."

They stopped at Logan's to shower and change, and were off to El Indio, which Dick swore had the best burritos in Neptune. He ate his lunch with a mostly silent Logan for company, while he pretty much carried on a conversation with himself. They were halfway through their third beer when Dick could stand it no longer.

"So what the fuck is up with you, Logan?" he said. "You ignore my calls for like five days and now you've practically kidnapped me. But you've only said like six words in the last couple hours. What the hell is going on?"

Logan's beer had been halfway to his mouth when Dick's questions began. He took a large gulp and tried to downplay it.

"Why should anything be wrong, Dude?" he said finally.

While someone else might have sensed that Logan didn't want to answer his question and left it alone, Logan knew that was unlikely to happen with Dick. He wasn't always the most perceptive of guys, but once he did latch onto something he didn't let it go. He barreled straight ahead until it was all out in the open.

"Stop with the bullshit," Dick said now. "I haven't seen you this torqued up since the last time you and Ronnie...Wait! Does this have something to do with Ronnie? Have you heard something about her?"

Logan wondered how it was that his most uncomplicated of friends always seemed to get right to the heart of the matter. He shook his head and gave Dick a small smile.

"Why don't you tell me about the last time _you_ saw Veronica, Dick?" he said, steering him in a different direction.

"The last time I...that would be at Hearst. No, wait! I did run into Ronnie last year when you sent me on that trip to San Francisco." Dick nodded his head. "But, oh, shit," he looked at Logan out of the corner of his eyes, "I wasn't actually supposed to tell you about that."

"Why not?" Logan wanted to know.

"Well...Ronnie asked me not to. And besides, I knew you'd just get all moody and shit if I so much as mentioned her name. Like now."

Logan nodded. "But now that I _do_ know, why don't you tell me about it."

He sat back in his chair, cradling his beer, and waited to hear what Dick had to say.

"Uh, okay," Dick nodded, somewhat bewildered, and Logan watched his eyes flicker in his effort to remember.

"She barely said hello, I remember that." He recalled the sting of her near-snub. They'd never been the best of friends, but still...

Logan nodded. "Go on," he said.

"I remember she asked what I was doing in San Francisco, and I told her you sent me because you were busy."

He looked up at Logan. "Is that what you wanted to know?"

"Did you mention my business?"

"Uh, yup, I think so. She...asked how you were. I said you were busy with LEA."

Dick remembered that he'd been indignant on Logan's behalf. "She didn't seem to even know you _had_ a business. Probably thought you went to shit when she left town. So I let her know you'd had LEA for almost four years. That you'd done okay without her."

He thought a minute. "And that was about it. Except for her asking me not to mention to you that I'd seen her."

Logan sighed. That was just about what he'd figured. _"I said you were busy with LEA. Had LEA for almost four years."_

It was easy to see how she might have misinterpreted Dick. The guy wasn't known for explaining himself.

Logan had been quiet for so long that Dick finally cleared his throat and asked, "You pissed at me or something, Logan?"

Logan smiled and shook his head. "No, Bro," he said. "Not at all."

He looked at his watch. One forty-five and he still hadn't heard from Keith.

"What do you say we play hooky for the whole day?" Logan said finally. "I'll drag out the video games from the back of the closet and we can have a rematch of...something."

"You haven't wanted to do that shit in years," Dick said, shaking his head. "Look, I know there's something going on with you that you don't want to tell me about, but if you just want me to keep you company today, I can do that. So, yeah, we can spend the afternoon playing video games."

It was almost 4 o'clock, and they were on their fifth rematch when Logan's phone finally rang and he saw that it was Keith.

"Keith," he said, and Dick's eyes narrowed when he heard the name. "What did you find out?"

xxxxxxxx

Keith knew that Logan had probably been on pins and needles all day and he gave him a lot of credit for not calling every hour. So when he got the confirmation from Trini about Matthew Garcia's connection with the Gutierrez cartel, he thought it only fair to let him know the outcome immediately.

"Logan," he said. "I don't know as I'd call this good news, but I have confirmation that Garcia is in bed with the Gutierrez cartel. Nothing that would hold up in court, but I think...enough to convince my daughter." He sighed. "Veronica has never needed a roadmap to figure out who the bad guys are. So I think we should head up there tomorrow..."

"Already on my computer, Keith. I've booked us on tomorrow's 10:30am flight out of San Diego. Are you still at Leo's?"

"No, I drove back this morning so I could pick up a few things before we head to San Francisco."

"Good," Logan said. "I'll pick you up at 8 if you text me your new address. No point in taking two cars to the airport."

"Done," Keith said, finishing up his text to Logan. "When the hell did you get so organized?"

"Oh, you ain't seen nothing yet," Logan said.

xxxxxxxxx

As soon as Logan got off the phone, Dick was all over him.

"That was Keith Mars. Why the _hell_ are you talking to Keith Mars? I was right. This does have something to do with Ronnie, doesn't it?"

Logan could see that Dick was becoming more and more agitated and that he'd probably worry himself sick if he wasn't given at least some explanation.

"Okay," he said, finally. "How about this? I'll tell you what I think it's safe for you to know, and you wait a little longer for the full story."

"_Safe_? Christ, Logan, what the hell does _that_ mean?"

"It means you're gonna trust me, Dick, okay? You're gonna listen to what I have to say, and then you're gonna let it go for now."

Dick ran his hand through the fine blond strands that covered the top of his head, that he still wore a little longer than might be appropriate, the last vestiges of his "surfer dude" persona.

"Okay," he said finally, resigned.

Logan considered how much he should tell Dick. "I did see Veronica this weekend," he said finally. "I was up in San Francisco. And...she's maybe in a little bit of trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" It was the question that Logan had expected.

"That's...what I can't tell you. I wish I could." He squeezed Dick's arm, a silent request for his support. "You just gotta trust me on this," he said.

Dick was quiet for a long time, but when he finally spoke his words surprised Logan.

"Dude," Dick hesitated just a little before continuing. "Me and Ronnie, sometimes we didn't always...get along so great. I guess we kinda...got on each others' nerves. But, hell, Logan, it's Ronnie. So...if there's anything I can do, you just...you just let me know."

Logan was touched. It was the last thing he'd expected. "You can bet your ass I'll do that, Dick," he said.

xxxxxxxx

She would have denied it with her last breath, but all day on Monday, Veronica had expected that her phone would ring and that Logan would be on the other end. Not that she wanted to hear from him, exactly. Sunday afternoon had been disconcerting enough. She didn't need more of the same. She didn't need to hear his voice, with that odd little hitch he sometimes had when he spoke to her.

Besides, she'd already decided that it would be impossible to maintain a friendship with him. In fact, she'd decided it several times. Every time she wavered, she'd decided it all over again.

But still, why the _hell_ hadn't he called?

She'd fallen into bed on Sunday night in a stupor, and then tossed and turned all night. Hell, if she was being honest, she'd not really slept well since her first glimpse of Logan Echolls across the Farnsworths' vast living room, but the cumulative loss of sleep was now becoming critical. She'd felt "barely there" all day, and her boss finally noticed.

"Hey, Mars," Len said, as he passed by her desk. "Didn't I give you Friday afternoon off so you could get some rest? What the hell did you do with the rest of your weekend, kid, because you look worse today than you did on Friday."

"Yeah?" she said, barely looking up from the witness statements she'd been cross-checking all day.

Veronica's utter failure to produce a snappy retort brought Rosetti up short. He stopped in his tracks, leaned back against the file cabinets, and studied her.

"Something wrong, Mars?" he asked, and Veronica heard the concern in his voice.

She was contemplating what she could possibly tell him when she was interrupted by the ringing of her phone. Veronica grabbed for it, thinking, "It's about time," so sure was she that it was Logan calling at last. It was fortunate she glanced down at the Caller ID.

"Dad," she answered it, "what a surprise."

She shrugged at Rosetti apologetically, and he nodded, leaving her to her call.

"Why such a surprise?" Keith said. "Can't a father call his only daughter whom he hasn't seen in months?"

"Dad," she laughed, "you were here three weeks ago. And of course you can call, but you never _do_ call during the day. I keep telling you it's okay, and _you_ keep saying that you don't want to bother me. So what's different about today?"

Veronica was smiling broadly now, immediately comforted just by the sound of her father's voice.

"Well, actually, Veronica, I wanted to catch you at work because I wondered if you could arrange to take tomorrow off. Or maybe just the afternoon."

"Um, I guess," she said. "Are you coming up or something? What's going on?" She was becoming concerned. Her father was as predictable as the sun, and he never called her at work or made surprise visits.

"Is something wrong, Dad? Are you...are you sick or something?" Veronica felt a sudden jolt of fear.

"No! Nothing like that, honey. I promise you, I'm perfectly fine. I just need to come up and talk to you about something."

"Dad..."

"Nothing to do with my health! Please don't worry."

"Okay, I think I can probably take the afternoon," she said finally. "When do you think you'll get in?"

"About one. We'll come right to your place. See you tomorrow, honey," he said hanging up.

It was only then that her dad's words actually penetrated.

"Wait!" she said into the phone. "Dad! Dad!" But he'd already hung up.

_Who the hell is 'we'?_ she asked herself, hanging up her phone.

Veronica went to bed early that night. The truth was that she'd barely been able to keep her eyes open while she ate the Chinese takeout that she'd stopped for on her way home. With everything that had happened weighing her down and disturbing her sleep for the past few nights, Veronica's body had finally reached the point of utter collapse.

But she went to bed disgruntled. She wasn't sure if she was more upset with Logan Echolls for failing to call her or with herself for being so distressed that she hadn't heard from him.

At work on Tuesday morning, even Len could see that Veronica was more rested, although she seemed distracted. He was still a little concerned.

"Why don't you see if your doctor can fit you in this afternoon?" he suggested as she got ready to leave for the day. "Maybe you need to get checked out."

"Don't worry, Len, my dad is about the best medicine I could get," she said, smiling. "Him and the pasta I'm going to talk him into buying me for lunch."

By the time Veronica made it back to her apartment, it was nearly one, but thankfully her dad had still not arrived. She rushed into her bedroom to change into something a bit more casual than the business suit that was the prescribed attire for ADAs. She had just grabbed some sandals when she heard a knock on her door.

"Be right there, Dad," she yelled, hopping on one foot as she attempted to walk and put on her shoes at the same time. A moment later, Veronica swung the door open.

"Dad," she said, her smile turning to puzzlement when she realized who was with him. "And...Logan? I...I don't understand."

Logan nodded. "Hello again, Veronica," he said, unable to keep the smile off his face or out of his voice.

"Hi," she said, trying her best not to return his smile. "And now I'm going to need an explanation for why you're both here together," she said, searching their faces for a clue.

"Well, if you'll let us in, honey, you'll get one," Keith said, giving her a hug and walking past her into the apartment. Logan followed, but thought it best to omit the hug.

Veronica closed the door behind them, struggling with how strange it felt that her father and her...husband were standing together in her living room.

"Well, I'm waiting," she said, looking from one to the other, her foot beginning to tap and her arms crossed front of her. It was clear from her stance that she knew that something had been happening behind the scenes, something that concerned her, and only now were these two men about to make her aware of it.

Veronica didn't like being kept in the dark.

Logan nodded at Keith, who turned to his daughter and sighed, "Honey, I think you'd better sit down. In fact, I think we should all sit down. This might take a while."


	13. Part II - Chapter 8

Part II - Chapter 8

An uncomfortable silence fell as the three of them stood together in Veronica's small living room. She wondered what could possibly have occurred that had not only brought her father all the way from Neptune, but also required the presence of Logan Echolls. And the men considered what might be the least hurtful way to apprise her of certain facts that she'd definitely be happier never knowing.

"Dad," she said finally, hazarding a guess, "if this has anything to do with our...divorce..." She shot a look at Logan.

"It doesn't," Keith said. "But," he added reluctantly, "Logan did explain about the problem with the divorce."

"But then why...?" she began, and both men could see that she wasn't happy that they'd been discussing her personal business.

Keith glanced at Logan before interrupting her. "He had to tell me, honey, so I'd understand what he was doing in San Francisco. And before you ask, there's a good reason why Logan's here right now."

"Keith," Logan interjected at this point, "I don't know. Maybe I should just leave..."

"Not on your life, mister," Veronica asserted, turning on him. "Not until I find out what's going on."

She huffed a sigh and smiled resignedly. "Okay," she said, moving toward the couch. "Let's hear it." As she sat, Veronica turned and quirked a brow at her father. "I suppose this means I'm not getting any lasagna for lunch."

Logan smiled and pulled out his phone. "I'll have some delivered from _La Dolce Vita,_" he said. "Enough for all of us."

When lunch had been ordered and the three were settled into their seats, Veronica once again turned to her father for an explanation.

Keith wondered how to begin, but finally just plunged in.

"Veronica, how much do you know about Matthew? About his background, I mean?"

"_Matthew!_" That was the very _last_ subject that Veronica had expected might have brought them to her door. And if it was Matthew they'd be talking about, she wondered again what Logan was doing there.

Veronica glanced back and forth between the two men, trying to get a read on the situation before she focused on her father again.

"Dad, I don't know what Logan has told you about Matthew. About how he's been acting." She looked at Logan out of the corner of her eye, but his face, for once, was unreadable.

"Logan's said nothing to me about Matthew's behavior, honey, and we're never going to get to the point if you keep interrupting."

Veronica looked mutinous. It was in her nature to ask questions. She pointedly pressed her lips together as if to promise she wouldn't interrupt. Keith wondered how long that would last.

"Is it your understanding that Matthew comes from a poor background and that he worked his way through college and law school?" Keith continued.

Veronica nodded. "That's right," she said. "But he also got some scholarships from the church. The Catholic Church, his old parish, I believe, in LA."

"Our Lady of Guadalupe."

"I don't know. I don't think I ever actually heard the name."

Keith nodded. "No, you probably wouldn't have. But that was the church in the neighborhood where he grew up."

He turned to Logan. "Did Garcia's daughter ever mention the name of the church to you?"

Logan, who had remained silent up to this point, was shaking his head in the negative when Veronica suddenly realized the implications of that question.

"When did you talk to Evie?" she asked slowly, her brow wrinkling in confusion.

Logan sighed, knowing that Veronica would probably be less than pleased by his answer.

"Evie called on Saturday morning and invited me to lunch," he explained. "And as it turned out, it's a good thing she did because that's what led to us finding out about...everything."

But Veronica had completely focused on the first part of his statement.

"You took Evie to lunch, Logan? Are you in the habit of dating children, now?" He could tell that she was annoyed.

"She's not a child, Veronica," he defended himself, "and besides, it wasn't a date. Two of her girlfriends came with us. I spent the afternoon in 'entertainer mode'." He smiled wryly.

"And were you busy with Evie yesterday, too?" she asked, before she could stop herself. "Is that why you didn't call me?"

She could have bitten off her tongue the moment the words were out of her mouth.

At first, Logan was dismayed by her anger, but when he fully comprehended what she'd just said to him, he couldn't hold back a tiny smile.

"Did you want me to call you, Veronica?" he asked. "I can tell you exactly where I was yesterday. I went back to Neptune to help sort out everything with your dad."

"It doesn't matter," she said dismissively, trying like hell to backpedal from her revealing outburst.

"I would've called if I'd known you wanted me to," Logan said softly, touching her shoulder and smiling into her eyes. "I won't make that mistake again."

Veronica shrugged his hand away, as if to stress that she didn't care, that she didn't give a shit if she ever heard from him again, that she was completely indifferent. But Logan had seen the corners of her mouth curl up.

As Keith sat there observing the two of them, a strong feeling of déjà vu swept over him. He would _never _understand their relationship, he told himself for the hundredth time.

He cleared his throat. "So if you two are finished...?"

Veronica gave a quick nod as Logan smirked happily, more optimistic than he'd been in years. They both gave their attention to Keith.

"Logan, why don't you show Veronica the picture you took when you picked up Evie Garcia for lunch on Saturday?"

Logan took out his phone and pulled up the picture of the two men, first with Evie in the shot, and then without her.

"That's the front door of Matthew's building," she said, recognizing it immediately. "but I definitely don't know these two guys...wait!...the younger one looks familiar."

"Yeah, that's what caught my attention, too," Logan agreed. He moved the camera roll forward to the edited photos that Mac had made for him until he came to the picture he wanted to show her.

"Mac helped with this part," he said. "Turning them into separate shots. Then I sent this pic to Weevil and..."

Veronica nodded as the penny finally dropped. "Weevil." she said. "Of course! That's Chardo Navarro."

"Bingo!" Logan confirmed. "And guess what our old buddy Chardo is up to these days, according to his grandma? No? No guesses?" he said, pursing his lips and quirking his brows at Veronica

"Up to no good, I'd say. But what particular flavor of 'no good' I wouldn't want to guess."

"Well, according to what Lety told Weevil, he's mixed up with drug dealers."

"Okay," she said, nodding, still perplexed about how Chardo Navarro might connect up to anything in _her_ life.

"When I heard that," Logan continued, "I sent the picture of his _amigo_, the old guy, to Keith so that he could look into him."

Keith took up the story at that point. "Leo gave me a hand with this part," he told her.

"Leo? Leo _D'Amato_? Is he...where is he?" She hadn't thought about Leo in years.

Keith nodded. "Detective D'Amato of the San Diego PD. And we got lucky. According to a member of the SDPD Gangs and Drugs Task Force, this man," he said, pointing to Chardo Navarro's companion, "is a highly placed member of the Gutierrez drug cartel named Vicente Salazar."

"What?!" Veronica said, shocked. "And Chardo is ...?"

"His flunky, according to Evie Garcia," Logan interjected.

"Evie..._knows_ these two?" Veronica's head was beginning to spin.

Keith sighed. This was going to be the hard part. "Not Chardo. She'd never seen him before, according to what she told Logan. But Salazar? Yes, she knows him. Has known him for years."

"But...how?" Veronica was incredulous. "Evie's a little...out of control, but she isn't the type to know drug lords."

Logan and Keith looked at each other in wordless communication. Logan knew that she would probably take the news better from her father, but he could see that Keith was struggling with having to disillusion her this way.

Finally Veronica spoke.

"Somebody better tell me what the hell is going on!" she insisted.

Logan sighed and looked at her directly. "It isn't Evie who knows Salazar," he said. "It's her father."

"_What_? That's...that's impossible!" Her denial was immediate, as he'd expected it would be. Her arms crossed in front of her chest in the classic gesture of disbelief.

"Yeah, well it may be 'impossible', but it's still true," Logan insisted, determined to make her understand. "Evie herself told me that this man, Salazar, has been visiting their house ever since she can remember. Garcia refers to him as "padrino," which is Spanish for mentor or something. In any case, it's a term of respect."

"Evie's an idiot!" Veronica shot back immediately. "She's probably mistaken him for someone else."

_Oh, goody_, Logan thought. _Stubborn Veronica has decided to put in an appearance. _

"Or else...or else _you're_ mistaken!" Veronica continued. "Or you're just trying to discredit Matthew. You're...you're jealous," she finished in a huff.

Logan shrugged his shoulders and threw his hands up in the air in frustration.

Veronica turned toward her father, beseeching. "Dad...?"

Keith sighed. He knew it hadn't been fair to let Logan take point on this, but it was damned hard for him to think about telling her something so hurtful. He shook his head. Obviously, Logan had more courage than he did.

"Veronica, I know you don't want to hear this, but we wouldn't be here if we hadn't checked everything out thoroughly. Evie Garcia told Logan the man has been visiting her father for years, and why should she lie about that? Her father refers to him using a term of great respect. That's what we started with. That, and the fact that Chardo Navarro, known to be involved with drug dealers, is the old man's current gofer."

Veronica said nothing but Keith knew that she was listening.

"Then Garcia's _padrino _is identified as a high-ranking member of the Gutierrez drug cartel by a detective in the San Diego PD's Gangs and Drugs Unit."

He looked at her. "Are you following so far?"

Veronica gave a curt nod.

"At that point, there was no other logical conclusion than that Matthew Garcia had a long-term connection with a member of a drug cartel. You must be able to see how that made his whole background story...suspect. So we looked into it. I found out that his old pastor at Our Lady of Guadalupe was living at a retirement home for priests in Santa Barbara, so I sent Trini Acevedo to talk to him. You remember Trini?"

Veronica barely nodded. The rest of her was as still as a stone.

"Fr. Alvarez had been the pastor from the early eighties, when Garcia was just a kid, until his retirement in 1999. He confirmed that it was Vicente Salazar who paid for Garcia's eduction for eleven years, from his enrollment at a prestigious parochial high school all the way through law school. Not the church, never the church. There were no scholarships. The church was just the...middleman, the cover."

He huffed a small laugh. "In exchange for his...cooperation, the cartel apparently provided the funds for a much-needed parish hall. That's why Fr. Alvarez did it, why he made that particular deal with the devil."

Keith stopped then, waiting for the barrage of questions that he was sure were coming from his inquisitive daughter, but she had only one.

"But why?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why would they pay for the education of this young boy? He was poor. He lived with his grandmother. He was..._no one_."

Logan shook his head at her inability to see what was right in front of her and took up the narrative.

"Exactly. He was smart, but his parents were dead and there was little chance that he could ever have afforded any kind of higher education, let alone go to law school. So when Salazar came along and told him...and his grandmother...about men who were willing to make all his dreams come true, it probably felt like he'd won the lottery. At least at first. He must have figured out who his benefactors were eventually."

She nodded her head slowly, seeing how it might have happened.

"He was...an investment, Veronica," Logan continued quietly. "They paid his tuitions, made sure he did well enough to make the right connections, and then sat back and waited."

"Waited...for what?" She still hadn't put it together in her head. She was still trying to come to terms with the idea that Matthew Garcia was not who she thought he was. That he likely never had been.

"For right _now_," Logan explained it to her. "For this election. To make sure that they get an Attorney General who would be firmly in their pocket. I looked into the election politics to try to get a handle on it. The current AG isn't very popular. He's vulnerable. And guess what his claim to fame is? What's the biggest plank in his campaign platform this year?"

Veronica shook her head. She had no idea.

"The cartels, Veronica. He's pledged to spend the next four years doing everything in his power, putting all the authority and influence of the AG's office, into ridding California of the cartels. That would be his focus if he's re-elected."

"And Matthew," she looked up at him with dawning comprehension, "keeps talking about corruption in local government. He's mentioned it over and over. And I...I thought it was such a noble cause because all I could think about was the corruption in Neptune. But it would mean that...if he won, _that's_ what he would focus on. On government corruption...not on the drug cartels."

They could see that the wheels were spinning once more inside Veronica's brain.

"When he proposed...it was...so sudden." Her voice was so soft, she almost seemed to be talking to herself. "It...it seemed to come out of nowhere. And I tried to...put him off. But he said he needed an answer right away."

As it all became clearer to her, Veronica became more and more agitated.

"I seem to remember from some poli sci class or other that conventional wisdom is that married candidates are more...electable. And...Matthew...had never mentioned any political aspirations, and then...all of a sudden he has this great desire to run for Attorney General. I'd only agreed to marry him a couple of days before."

She was angry now as the sequence of events unspooled in her head.

"I ignored the little voice in my head that wondered about the timing of his proposal because I thought what he was doing was _great._ An _extraordinary sacrifice_. After all, he could make so much more money in private practice. He didn't _have_ to run for office." Her voice was becoming strident. "But I got that wrong, didn't I?"

She looked at her two visitors, both of whom had stilled as she continued her monologue, as her anger turned to fury.

"I am such a fool! Such a _fucking idiot_! He used me. They told him he had to run and he suddenly needed a wife. He needed a wife for the...the campaign trail! And I was...handy! He liked to 'show me off'. Oh, I knew that, and I was kind of..flattered. I thought he was _proud_ of me, but he was just..."

Tears filled her eyes as she looked over at them. Veronica had never in her life felt more humiliated. Without another word, she jumped up from the couch, ran into her bedroom, and closed the door behind her.

Keith got up, but Logan put a hand on his arm. "Let me," he said.

Logan knocked on her bedroom door, calling softly, "Veronica? Veronica, I'm coming in now."

He opened the door and found her huddled on her bed near the headboard, looking at nothing but the wall. He thought she might be crying, but when she turned toward him, her face was filled with anger. He sat down on the end of the bed.

"I suppose you're enjoying this," she said, bitterly. "I just can't seem to help myself when it comes to choosing men. Always the wrong one."

"Not always," he said pointedly. "And why the _hell_ would you think I'd enjoy something that's obviously made you so miserable."

_Miserable? _Veronica thought about that word. Was she miserable? She was humiliated, that was certain. And she was just about as angry as she'd been in a long, long time. And she had a feeling that "vengeful Veronica" might be making an appearance very soon. But...miserable?

Her lips twisted as she sighed. "I don't know if I'm..miserable. We...it wasn't like that with Matthew and me, Logan. It wasn't like..." she stopped herself just in time, before she finished that sentence, before she said 'like us'.

Veronica tried to make him understand why she felt so violated. "Just because we, Matthew and I," she paused, searching for the right words, "just because we weren't...emotionally invested in each other...doesn't mean he has the right to use me like that. He thought nothing of dragging me into his...his mess of a life, with his criminal associates, and completely screwing up _my_ life. I'm a _prosecutor_, for god's sake!"

She looked at Logan, and he could see outrage in every line of her face.

"So maybe I'm not heartbroken, but that sure isn't going to stop me from calling him and ripping him a new one," she declared, reaching toward where her phone sat on the bedside table.

"No, that's just what you can't do!" Logan said, grabbing the phone before she could get to it.

"What do you mean!" Veronica was indignant. "You're crazy if you think I'm letting this go!"

"Of course not..." Logan was trying to think how to explain it to her when there was a soft knock on her bedroom door.

"Food's arrived, kids," Keith said. "Let's eat it while it's hot."

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Keith had set up the food and plates along the granite-topped island that doubled as an eating area in Veronica's apartment.

"Someday, I'm going to live in a place that has an actual table just for eating," she said as she scrambled up onto a stool.

Logan peered at her over his fork, and raised his brows.

"Someplace that's actually _mine_," she amended, remembering the large kitchen with a table at one end that they'd used in Logan's beach house.

"So...you ordered this stuff from _La Dolce Vita._" She smiled just a little. "I presume you got takeout from there on Saturday and brought it over to Mac?" she asked.

"Yup," he confirmed. "I figured I should feed her before I asked her to help me out with the pictures." He grinned. "Of course, I don't have to ply her with quite so much food as I do you."

"Ha! Ha!" she said, grinning in return, but then her grin turned to a grimace and she dropped her fork on her plate.

"So explain to me why it is that I can't call Matthew right now and tell him what I think of his marriage proposal - not to mention his old friends."

There was nothing Logan would have liked to see more but he knew it couldn't happen that way.

"Veronica," Keith jumped in before he could say a word. "You have to be careful."

"Of what? You think Matthew might _hurt_ me? I'd like to see him try!"

Logan put his hand on her arm so that she'd turn to face him. He took her fork from her and placed it on her plate, then picked up both of her hands in his own.

"Veronica," he said softly, "if you remember, in high school we had to deal with our local version of the Irish mob. The Fitzpatricks were, if you'll pardon the pun, small potatoes, but they were just as dangerous and just as deadly as any of the old-time gangsters."

"I'll attest to that," Keith said, nodding, from his seat on the other side of Veronica.

"Then," Logan continued, "when we were at Hearst, we managed to piss off the Russian mafia. If Gorya Sorokin's father hadn't thought his son was an asshole for starting unnecessary trouble, I'd probably be dead right now."

"Dammit, Veronica, I knew there was something you hadn't told me!" Keith interjected heatedly.

"Well, thanks, big mouth," Veronica hissed at Logan.

"I don't care,Veronica," he said. "I don't care if there are things you haven't told Keith. I'm not interested in keeping secrets. I'm interested in pointing out to you that none of those crime syndicates can compare to a Mexican drug cartel. You don't want to come anywhere _near_ these people."

Veronica pulled her hands away and picked up her fork so she could resume eating.

"But I already am," she said. "I'm already involved. Matthew involved me when he...invited me into his life."

"But they don't know that you know! That's the key. You have to find a way to back away from Garcia without letting him know - without letting _anybody_ know - that _you_ know he's a cartel asset."

When Veronica looked at him, he could see comprehension dawning.

"Otherwise, you won't be safe, and Matthew would probably be in some jeopardy, too. Not that I give two shits about that right at this moment," Logan muttered, under his breath.

They finished the rest of their lunch in silence, each thinking about the best course of action to take. Finally, Keith spoke up.

"I think we shouldn't overlook the obvious solution to the problem," he said finally. The other two looked up with blank faces, and Keith wondered how they could be so oblivious.

"Well," he continued carefully, "it does seem...providential...that everything is coming to light at the same time. The...ah...issue with your divorce and then finding out that Matthew Garcia is...not exactly what he seemed."

He looked at his daughter, hoping she'd catch on without him having to spell it out. "Don't you think so, honey?" he said.

Veronica frowned, not understanding. "But Matthew already knows about the...glitch...in the divorce," she said. "He's not going to accept that as a reason for me to break it off with him."

Keith sighed. "I wasn't thinking of the divorce, Veronica." he said. He shook his head, wondering when his daughter had become so obtuse. "I was thinking of Logan."

"Logan?" she murmured.

But while Veronica was still in the dark, Keith could see by the smirk on his face that Logan had caught on.

"Yes, Veronica. Logan. Who is still legally your husband, if you recall. Just tell Garcia that you realized after seeing him that you still...ah...love Logan and so you're breaking up with him. See," he added, "simple."

Logan was leaning his elbow on the counter, face in hand, peering around at Veronica, waiting to see what she'd say. Which, when it came, was completely predictable, he thought.

"I can't do that!" she said, her face scarlet. "He'd...he'd never believe it!"

"Yeah?" challenged Logan. "Why the hell not?"

"Because I haven't seen you in years! No one would believe that I would just...just fall into your arms again."

"Maybe no one who doesn't know you two," Keith muttered, half under his breath.

"Dad!" Veronica was outraged, but Logan's lips twisted in a wry grin.

"Okay, then," her father asked. "What's your plan?"

Veronica swung down from the stool and started clearing away all the remnants from their lunch, putting the paper bags into the trash cans and rinsing the plates off in the sink. When the small kitchen area was tidy again, she turned to the men with a satisfied look on her face.

"You want simple? How's this? I just don't want to be a political wife. I can't marry a man who's running for office. And since he _can't _change his mind, he'll have to agree. There!" she said. "Just as simple and much more believable than that story about me still...wanting to be with Logan."

The smirk had never left Logan's face. "Yeah, well, I don't know about more believable. I thought the other option was very believable." His smirk turned to a grin when she glared at him. "But I think it's a plan that might just work."

"It should." Veronica took a deep breath and plunged ahead. "Because it has the added advantage of being true."

"What?" Keith and Logan said in almost the same breath.

Veronica shrugged tiredly. "Once I found out about the political campaign, I should have realized I could never go through with...the marriage. But I just thought, well if this is what he wants, and I've already given my word...and how difficult could it be?"

She sighed. "And I was convinced that he was doing something worthwhile, making a sacrifice, and so, I could, too," she finished. "It wasn't very...realistic."

She looked at the other two. "So I'll only be telling him what I would have had to say sooner or later anyway."

"Yeah, well, under the circumstances," Logan remarked acerbically, "I vote for 'sooner'."

Veronica nodded her agreement. "How about this evening?" she asked. Then, "Oh, shit." She frowned suddenly.

"What's the matter, now?" Keith wanted to know.

"The ball. The charity ball this Saturday night. I already promised that I'd attend with him. For some reason, he seemed to think it was very important to his campaign. He'll...he's bound to wonder why I'm breaking my promise to him, since he made such a big deal out of it."

"Well, since we're not really rooting for his success on the campaign trail, why should you give a damn?" Logan asked.

"Because," and her expression said he'd failed to think it through, "the Veronica from an hour ago, the one who didn't know about his connection to the Mexican mafia, would never break a promise like that. And he knows that."

"Do you...could you wait until after the ball to break up with him, honey?" Keith asked, frowning.

But Veronica was already shaking her head. "I can't keep this inside of me for that long. I...I want him to know it's over. But," she considered her options, "I can tell him that we're over, but that I'll still attend the ball with him. That's what Veronica...what I...would do if I didn't know."

"Are you sure you're going to be...comfortable...at that ball, Veronica?" her father asked.

She shrugged. "No, I'm sure I won't be, but it's the best I can come up with."

"Not quite the best," Logan weighed in then, his phone already out and a sly smile on his face. "I think I might have a tiny, little improvement."

Keith and Veronica watched, perplexed, as Logan scrolled through his contacts until he found the one he wanted. He pressed Send and waited for the line to be picked up.

"Hey, Evie," he said, "it's Logan Echolls. Yes, I'm still in San Francisco," he added, after a pause.

"So," he continued, "I was wondering if you're not doing anything if you'd like to go to a charity ball this Saturday night."

Logan watched as Veronica's eyes widened and her face went slack.

"Nope, haven't changed my mind. I still think you're way too young for me. This would be just as friends. I thought we could...uh...double-date with your dad and Veronica."

They could hear what sounded like laughter on the other end of the line, and then...

"What makes you think I'm up to something? Do I seem like the kind of guy who might be up to something?" There was now a smirk on Logan's face. "Oh, I do, huh?"

By this time, Logan was laughing as well, while Veronica looked like she was ready to kill him.

"So where do I get these tickets, anyway? Do you know anybody...? She does! That's great. Why don't you text me her...you already did. Very efficient, princess."

"Great," he finished up. "You can tell your dad I'll arrange for a limo to take us all. See you Saturday."

Veronica gaped as Logan hung up the phone, then turned on her heel and marched back into her room, this time slamming the door behind her.

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When Veronica retreated to her room for the second time in as many hours, Logan spent only a short time trying coax her out. Then he got angry. It was when she heard him call her short-sighted and childish that she finally flung open the door to find him standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips and an obstinate expression on his face.

"Finally!" he said. "The _prima donna_ has decided to grace us with her presence."

"_Prima donna?" _ she practically spat it out. "I just...I don't need to be...baby-sat!" Her eyes narrowed. "Or is this just an excuse for you to see Evie again?!"

Logan's eyes lit up as a new thought entered his head. "You're jealous, Mars. Admit it." He grinned at her. "But there's no reason to be. I just want to make sure that you're okay."

"Arrgh! You are such a conceited jackass," she said. "I am _not_ jealous. And I don't need you to make sure I'm okay. I've been taking care of myself just fine for the Past. Six. Years." Each word was accompanied by a poke in what she came to realize were Logan's extremely fit abs.

In desperation, she peeked around Logan to where her father sat on the couch reading the newspaper and apparently paying little attention to either of them.

"Dad," she pleaded. "Help me out here. Tell Logan he doesn't need to..to tag along on my date."

"Sorry, honey," her father said, turning the page of the newspaper. "I think it's a fine idea. I know I'll feel a lot more comfortable if I know you're not on your own on Saturday,"

Veronica had reached the end of her tether. "Eeeeeh!" was what came out of her mouth as she stomped around the kitchen in frustration. She knew she was acting like a six-year-old. In truth, she'd been better behaved when _was_ six years old, but she simply couldn't seem to control anything about herself lately so she'd given up trying.

She couldn't seem to control her mouth, which is why she knew she sounded like a jealous schoolgirl. And she couldn't control her actions. Look at her now, she thought, acting like a spoiled brat. And worst of all, she couldn't control her thoughts. Hadn't been able to, really, since she'd first caught sight of Logan five days ago.

Although she'd tried. God knows she'd tried.

But her emotions had been all over the place and with Logan - and her father - sitting in her very small apartment, she didn't know how she would ever manage to acquire the equilibrium she would need for her delicate meeting with Matthew. It was suddenly brought home to her that she needed to be alone.

"Okay, you two," she said abruptly. "Out!"

"_What_?" Logan said, surprised that she was actually throwing them out.

"You heard me. Both of you. Out!" Veronica needed to call Matthew and then decide what she would say to him later. Both tasks would take some mental preparation.

"Uh, where do you expect me to go, Veronica?" Keith asked, mildly. "I always just bunk on this couch."

"Come on, Keith," Logan said. "I have a suite and you can bunk on my couch instead."

"Yeah, go ahead, Dad. I seem to recall that Logan has a penchant for enormous hotel rooms. His suite is probably bigger than this apartment."

It wasn't until Logan looked at her, so quietly, so intimately, that she recalled exactly which hotel room she was alluding to. He smiled at her softly, and she turned away, amazed that she had been able to refer to that terrible time, even so obliquely.

They hadn't been out the door more than a few minutes when Veronica picked up her phone and pressed a number on speed dial.

"Matthew," she said when he answered, "I really need to speak to you and it can't wait. What time do you think you'll be home?"

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It wasn't completely unprecedented for Veronica to call him in the middle of the work day, but neither was it commonplace, and Matthew was a little...disquieted. She said she had something urgent she wanted talk to him about as soon as he returned home, and he couldn't think of a good reason to put her off.

Later, he wished he _had_ put her off because _Padrino_ called and said that _he'd_ be stopping by. He certainly didn't want them running into each other, although he wondered why he should care. There was nothing...sinister...about _Padrino_. He was just an old family friend that Matthew had known since childhood.

But of course that was only half the story.

He'd been barely 13 when he'd made the decision to take their money. Just a child, really, so technically it had been up to his grandmother. But Matthew had always understood that it was his call. And even then he'd known. He'd known that men like these didn't give away educations for nothing, that he wouldn't be handed a ticket to the good life and never have to pay up. That eventually there would come a day of reckoning.

But so many years had gone by, more than thirty, in fact, that Matthew had begun to think that maybe he'd been given a free pass after all. But it was not to be. Six weeks ago, a decision had been made that the current Attorney General could not be allowed to retain his office. If this had been Mexico, Matthew knew that there'd have been a different...method...employed to oust an unwanted politician. But this was the States, and that sort of activity would bring down the wrath of a dozen different law enforcement agencies, and shine a spotlight where it most definitely was not wanted.

No, in this country, one didn't kill politicians. Instead, one bought elections.

But first, there must be a viable candidate, and that candidate had to be seen to have a groundswell of support from "salt of the earth" types like Jim Farnsworth. That way, when money was spent on campaign ads and other means of persuading the electorate, it would be assumed that there was vast support from the community. There were plenty of campaign financing laws in place, of course, but there were always ways around such impediments.

So the businessmen that Matthew had been forced to dine with on so many long, boring evenings contributed, in reality, only a pittance to his campaign fund. His real support came from faceless men who understood how to hide their financial transactions from the prying eyes of the government. Men like his _padrino_, Vicente Salazar, and others of his ilk. Others to whom Matthew Garcia owed his wealth, his prominence, his success.

Matthew's role was to become the perfect candidate. He already had the sympathetic background. Americans were so charmingly naive, he thought. They loved the underdog. They yearned to hear about the poor boy who'd made good. The American ethos idealized such tales, and Matthew Garcia's was almost too good to be true.

All he'd needed was the perfect woman by his side. These days, it didn't matter that he'd been divorced; half the country had been divorced. But a second marriage would show that he hadn't lost his optimism, and that someone found him worthy of affection.

When he'd been informed with very little warning that he'd be giving up his private practice and running for office, Veronica had already been a part of his life. But he'd not thought of proposing. Indeed, at the time he'd wondered if Veronica ever wanted to get married. There was some irony to that, he thought now, considering what he'd later learned about her early marriage.

But he'd been relieved when she'd agreed to marry him, because he knew he'd never find anyone else who suited him so well. Instinct told him it would be better to secure her acceptance before he informed her of his plans to run for office, but when he later told her of his political plans, she'd said surprisingly little.

Veronica was the first person on which he tried out his scripted reasons for running for office. It was a veritable trifecta of platitudes, beginning with his childhood dream of being Attorney General, moving on to 'giving back to the community', and ending with a mild diatribe against corruption in local government. Surprisingly, it was that last that seemed to finally win some approval in her eyes.

When he'd been told what was expected of him, Matthew had been unconvinced that he could pull it off. But with Veronica on board, both as his fiancée and his political helpmeet, he'd begun to think that it might just be possible.

And now everything was falling apart, ever since that damned husband of hers had shown up. Not that he was worried about Echolls. The man might have gotten a little hot under the collar the other night, but Evie had just told him that Echolls was taking _her_ to the charity ball on Saturday, so Matthew didn't see any sort of reconciliation on the horizon between Veronica and her almost-ex. It had been years, anyway.

But it was clear that something was on Veronica's mind, and he had a feeling that whatever it was, he wasn't going to be pleased.

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Veronica had thought carefully about how to approach Matthew. She needed to break their engagement in a way that left no room for any lingering fantasies on his part that she might ever change her mind. But nothing in her manner or her words or her tone could let on that she knew that he was a fucking mobster. Veronica clenched her fists. That was priority one.

As she rode the elevator to the penthouse condo for what she hoped would be the last time, Veronica wished she could slip into one of those personas that she used have at the ready, back when she was working cases. Amber, maybe. Yeah, Amber wouldn't have any trouble breaking up with Matthew. She'd just say, "Uh, I don't think I wanna get married right now, ya know?" And then ditz her way out. Somehow, she didn't think that was going to work with Matthew. He hadn't proposed to Amber.

Veronica stepped out of the elevator and took a deep breath as she raised her hand to knock on the door, but it opened before her knuckles could make contact.

"You're late," Matthew said, looking at his watch, clearly annoyed. "You said you'd be here at six and it's nearly six-fifteen. I really wish you'd learn to be more punctual, Veronica."

Heck, maybe this was gonna be easier than she'd thought, Veronica reflected, staring at him. Because suddenly, Matthew looked like someone she'd never seen before in her life. A complete stranger. She couldn't believe she'd dated him, slept with him, let alone agreed to marry him.

Was it just the revelation that he was not the honorable and admirable man she'd once thought him to be, but instead something much more...sinister? Or was it something more? Was she somehow a different person than the one who a few short weeks ago had cheerfully agreed to accept his proposal? Veronica wasn't sure.

But for now, she opened her mouth to apologize. "I'm sorry. I...the buses were running late."

She omitted mention of the fifteen minutes she'd spent pacing in front of the building, trying to psych herself up for the performance of the century.

"You took the bus?" Matthew threw up his hands in exasperation. "Well, you're here now," he said. "Why don't you come back to my sitting room and we can talk there?"

Matthew had considered the possibility that _Padrino_ might arrive before Veronica left, and while it was illogical, and there was no reason why his visitors shouldn't meet, he was stubbornly superstitious about his desire to keep them apart if he could. If he heard _Padrino_ knock while Veronica was still there, he'd show him to his office and make some excuse while he quickly got rid of Veronica.

Matthew's sitting room was a small, comfortable room at one end of the master suite. On the few nights that Veronica had stayed with him, she'd enjoyed having morning coffee in the room, which had a wonderful view of the city. Veronica referred to the room as cozy, while to Matthew, it was simply 'small'.

As they sat, he noticed that she seemed stiff. Instead of sinking down into her favorite chair, she sat on the edge, as if poised for flight.

Alarm bells went off inside Matthew's head.

Veronica had never thought she could be uncomfortable in this room, which she'd loved from the first moment she'd seen it. Even the masculine decor couldn't completely hide the room's warmth and charm. But today, she was far too nervous to be charmed, and she could see from Matthew's wary expression that neither of them were comfortable.

She thought she might just as well get it over with.

"Matthew," she began, in as pleasant a voice as possible, "I'm, uh, afraid I have something that I need to tell you. I'm so sorry, but.."

"No!" Matthew jumped up from his chair. "You can't do this to me!"

"I...can't?" Veronica was so startled that she said the first thing that popped into her head.

"Veronica, you promised. And a promise is a sacred thing. You can't go back on your word now!" Matthew was very insistent.

And Veronica was becoming very, very angry. "Who says..?" she began.

"It's only a few hours out of your life. How can you break your promise over a few hours?"

Matthew's eyes were flashing, and Veronica could feel some strong emotion rolling off him in waves. It felt very much like...fear.

And then his words finally penetrated her brain.

"Matthew," she said, as calmly as she could. "What is it that you think we're talking about here?"

"The...the ball, of course. You're trying to get out of attending after you promised. Even your friend Echolls is going. He's invited Evie. Perhaps you didn't know," he said as though this might be an inducement to persuade her to change her mind and attend after all.

"The..ball," Veronica said slowly. "All this...over a ball."

Veronica shook her head in disbelief.

"Well," she continued, more briskly, "you'll be happy to hear that I didn't come here to renege on my promise to attend the ball with you."

Matthew's manner changed in an instant. His entire body seemed to sag with relief and he dropped back into his chair.

"Then if it's not...the ball, then what?" Matthew asked.

Veronica pulled herself up ramrod straight and decided to cut to the chase. "I'm so sorry, Matthew, I'm afraid I have to break our engagement," she said quickly.

He sat there for a moment as if stupefied. Finally, he spoke. "That's...impossible," he said.

"Impossible?" Veronica repeated, her voice rising. She folded her hands together, making every effort to remain calm.

"I don't thinks it's 'impossible', Matthew. This isn't some...arranged marriage. I still have the power to decide who I'll marry. Or _if_ I'll marry." Inside her head, she understood that his arrogance was a good thing. It would be easier to hide her fear if she were angry.

"Of course you do." he said stiffly. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what _did_ you mean?" she asked, letting her indignation show.

"I...I'd just like an explanation," he said, his efforts to remain calm apparent. "Even when you gave the ring back, you assured me that you were not breaking our engagement. And we spoke just two days ago and you said nothing like this to me then. Nothing. What's changed so suddenly?"

Veronica carefully schooled her features into lines of regret.

"You're right, Matthew. I should have been more...forthcoming. The truth is," she said, putting every ounce of her considerable acting skills into her line delivery, "I don't feel that I could be a...political wife. I don't have the right...temperament, and frankly, I'd find it boring as hell."

She sat back, waiting to see his response, hoping that he'd bought it.

He seemed bewildered. "But you never said this when I told you of my plans."

"That's true," she agreed. "But I've been thinking about this for a while and I just didn't share my...misgivings with you. And that wasn't fair of me. But it's been a few weeks now, we've had to attend a lot of political functions, and it's...clear to me now that it's...not how I want to spend my time, not how I want to spend my life."

"But what about...us?" he asked. "What about our...feelings for one another?"

_Yeah, what about them, Veronica? _she asked herself.

"Matthew, I've...enjoyed our relationship. You're a, uh, good person. But I think we both know that ours wasn't a fairytale with, uh, grand declarations of undying love."

"But...I understood that that's the sort of relationship you wanted. You've been very frank about this ever since I've known you." He was puzzled.

"Yes, of course, you're right. I simply meant that having found that we're not as...compatible...as we'd once thought, we'll be able to move on more easily since ours wasn't a...great romance."

"But we _are_ compatible," he insisted. "We've gotten along nearly perfectly right from the beginning. We never even had a fight until...the other night."

_Is that true? _she asked herself. _We've never had a fight? Did I even care about anything enough to fight with you about it?_

Aloud she said, mentally crossing her fingers that she'd predicted his response correctly, "Well we _were_ compatible, Matthew. You're absolutely right. And maybe if you were willing to give up your, uh, political aspirations..."

"You cannot ask me to do that!" he declared, his voice rising. "I...it's something I _must_ do."

_Yeah, I'll just bet it is_.

"That's just it. I couldn't ask you to give up your dream. I just find that I can't be a part of it. I'm...I'm sorry, Matthew." Now that it was almost over, she found the effort of keeping her antipathy to herself was becoming more, rather than less, difficult.

As Matthew sat there across from her, she could see that he was struggling with a whole host of emotions, but anger and fear seemed to be vying for the top spot.

"About the ball...," he said finally, his voice strangled.

"I meant what I said earlier," she nodded. "I know it's the last big social event before the primaries and I don't want to leave you in the lurch, so if you still want me to go..."

"Yes, yes I do," he said immediately, relief showing on his face. "And...you'll wear the ring?"

Matthew desperately needed to think about how to explain this turn of events. If he could at least have until next week. He must have that breather, she must wear the ring...

"The ring?" she said, perplexed. "I've just broken off our engagement and you still want me to wear that outrageously expensive ring?"

"I'd rather...keep this news to ourselves for a little while, Veronica. Even if you accompany me to the ball, if you're not wearing the ring, it might cause some negative...speculation. Which I can ill afford at this point in the, uh, campaign."

Veronica thought a moment about his request. "Matthew," she said, tentatively, "I'm not going to change my mind..."

"Dammit, Veronica!" Matthew said, startling her, pounding his fist on the arm of his chair, struggling to maintain his equanimity. "You've...given me some very bad news. Can you just...do this one thing for me?"

As she sat there with her mouth agape, wondering if jumping up and running out the door would look suspicious, he calmed as abruptly as he'd exploded.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm...under a lot of stress. If you could just...see your way clear to accompanying me to the ball, wearing your ring, I swear I would never ask another thing of you, Veronica. And we can part as...as friends."

_Friends. Right._

She'd known this event was important to him, but not how important. It made no sense to her, but Veronica decided to give in graciously.

"All right," she agreed. "But...I won't take the ring now. You keep it and bring it with you on Saturday, and I promise I'll wear it."

"Thank you, Veronica," Matthew said fervently, breathing a sigh of relief.

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If Matthew had only known that most of his conversation with Veronica had been overheard, and that nothing about it had pleased the eavesdropper, he'd have understood that his relief was decidedly...premature.

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There were few things that Evie Garcia liked to do more than shop, and to shop for a dress for something like the charity ball was extra delicious. Even if she knew that her date had absolutely no romantic interest in her. How could he, she thought, when the torch he was so obviously carrying for his ex could have lit up the entire waterfront?

She wondered how long it would take her incredibly clueless father to catch on.

She'd entered the building laden down with shopping bags after spending the afternoon in successful pursuit of the perfect ensemble. Evie waved to the concierge and rushed down the marble hallway to catch the elevator just as the doors were closing. A hand reached out to keep them open until she and her bundles were safely inside.

"Thanks," she said gratefully, dropping her bags all over the elevator floor, turning to see who her savior was.

"Oh, hello," she said stiffly, when she saw who'd held the elevator. She wondered what it was about the old man that always gave her the creeps. Even more so since the other day when Logan had asked about him.

"Twice in one week," she added, trying to make conversation. Maybe, she thought, she did need to work on her social graces.

"Indeed, Evangeline," he murmured. "Your father is one of my most cherished friends."

Evie looked at him blankly, not sure what that meant or how she should respond.

When they reached the top floor, Evie unlocked the door to the condo and _Padrino_ waited politely for her to enter before following her inside. He directed his flunky - a new one, Evie noted - to carry her bags inside and then wait in the hallway.

"Uh, my father is expecting you, right?" she asked, uncertain what the protocol should be. "I'm, uh, not sure where he is right now, or even if he's home."

"I believe he is expecting me," Padrino said politely. "Why don't I just wait for him in his office? That is usually where we have our visit."

"Oh, uh,..." Evie hesitated. To show a visitor into Matthew's private office, where she herself was allowed only by invitation, seemed to be begging for her father's anger. On the other hand, this was the _padrino _, and she knew her father would be even angrier if she showed him anything less than the greatest respect.

That decided her. "Of course, Padrino," she said politely, leading him down to her father's office before continuing on her way to her own suite of rooms.

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He hadn't been in the office long before Vicente Salazar realized that there were voices coming from within the master suite itself. He turned off the light and carefully opened the door that led from the office into the bedroom. A man and a woman were talking in the next room, and although they were speaking in normal tones, he found that the acoustics of the room, as well as the sharpness of his ears, allowed him to hear their conversation with little effort.

As he listened, he felt first surprise, then anger, and finally rage. Not only had Mateo seriously compromised their carefully laid plans with this woman who was now turning out to be useless, but it was clear that he was planning to try to deceive them. Insisting that she accompany him and pretend to be his _querida_? That she wear the ring that she was no longer entitled to? How long did he think they would be fooled?

As he stood there, he made the decision that the backup plan must be put into action. Some use must be found for this Anglo _puta_ who had caught Matthew's eye. If Matthew could not attract the affection of the voters with a great romance, he would garner their sympathy with profound tragedy. Vicente would have preferred the former course, but the alternate plan would work as well.

He carefully closed the door to the bedroom and opened one on the other side of the office, stepping out onto the balcony and pulling out his phone.

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One of the selling points of the extremely expensive condo that Matthew Garcia had purchased on Nob Hill after his divorce was the view. And to enhance that feature, a wide balcony had been constructed that wrapped around two sides of the building. The longer narrower leg stretched from the living room area to the master bedroom suite, where it could be accessed from the small room that Matthew used as an office.

To her great delight, the shorter but wider leg ran alongside the second bedroom, which was occupied by Evie. And to make it even more enticing, the prior occupants had installed a hot tub on that section of the balcony. It was doubtful that Matthew Garcia would ever consider stepping into a hot tub, but to Evie, it was one of the few attractions of staying with her father.

A long afternoon of shopping and the warmth of the spring evening had persuaded Evie that a soak in the hot tub was exactly what she needed. She'd just stepped into the water and was about to pop in her earbuds when she heard a door open on the other leg of the balcony. This was odd, since she was the only one who ever used the balcony.

She heard only one man speaking, soon realizing it was the _padrino,_ and that he must be on the phone. He was speaking in Spanish, and she was far from fluent, so it took some time for Evie to understand what she was hearing. It took even more time for Evie to believe what she was hearing.

Evie sat in that tub for a full fifteen minutes after the _padrino_ had left the balcony, as she tried to decide what to do. Speaking to her father was out of the question. But so was doing nothing at all. When the answer finally came, she sagged with relief and could only wonder why it had taken her so long to figure it out.

She knew she couldn't tell him over the phone, but appreciated that he'd probably be reluctant to have her come to his hotel. But that couldn't be helped. Evie showered and dressed in comfortable jeans before she picked up her phone to call Logan Echolls. She wondered how in hell she was going to be able to explain to him that someone wanted Veronica dead.


	14. Part II - Chapter 9

Part II - Chapter 9

They spent the remainder of the afternoon in companionable silence. Logan pulled out his iPad and tried to relax with Angry Birds, but he was exhausted and eventually fell asleep on the bed. Keith was reading his second newspaper of the day and chuckling at the lack of stamina in young people nowadays, when he himself dropped off on the exceedingly comfortable couch that the St. Regis provided for its guests.

They were both startled awake by a loud ring, and groped for their phones, Logan finally unearthing his from where it had fallen behind the bedside table. He was sure it must be Veronica calling. But he was wrong.

"Logan, thank god!" came a panicked voice on the other end of the line. "It rang and rang and I was beginning to think you weren't going to answer and then I don't know what the _hell_ I would have done and.."

"Evie?" he finally broke in on her rambling.

"Yes, yes, of course it's me. It's Evie. Yes." She stopped and took a breath.

He took advantage of her momentary silence to ask with concern, "What's wrong, Evie?" It was easy to tell by her breathless and rapid delivery that Evie Garcia was under great stress.

"I...can't talk about it over the phone, Logan. It has to be in person and it has to be tonight. I need to come see you. And I know what you're going to say," she rushed on before he could get another word in. "You're going to give me some bullshit about not going to a man's hotel room, but Logan, I promise you, this is important."

Logan sighed. "Have you eaten, Evie?" he asked. "Because I haven't and I'd really like to. And there's no problem with your coming here because I happen to have," he glanced over at Keith who was watching and listening to him from the bedroom doorway, "a friend staying with me at the moment."

Logan asked what she'd like to eat, but she told him she didn't care. He gave her the room number and made certain she was taking a taxi, then hung up.

"The Garcia girl?" Keith asked as soon as Logan had disconnected the call.

"Yeah," Logan answered, a puzzled expression on his face. "She sounded...I don't know any other other word to describe it but...frantic."

Keith nodded. "So I guess we're entertaining her for dinner."

"Looks that way," Logan said, picking up the room service menu. "What would you like, Keith?" he asked.

"Uh, would they have steak on that menu?" Keith answered.

Logan laughed. "Something tells me they might. As for me," he continued, "anything will do, as long as it's not lasagna. I've had enough lasagna in the last few days to last me a while."

"The perils of being in Veronica's orbit," Keith said, and they both laughed.

In the end, Logan ordered three steak dinners. He hadn't noted the other night that Evie had any dietary restrictions, self-imposed or otherwise, but if she didn't want the steak he'd just order her something else when she got there.

As they sat and waited, wondering which would arrive first, their dinner or their guest, Keith finally voiced what they'd both been thinking.

"I'm...a little surprised we haven't heard from Veronica," he said. "Not that anything she does is ever to anyone's schedule but her own," he added.

"You got that right," Logan agreed. "But I think maybe it's time we called her. It's almost eight and she should have had plenty of time to talk to Garcia by now."

But a knock at the door stopped him before he could dial her number. When Logan answered it, Evie Garcia threw herself at him with a force that nearly knocked him over. She was breathing rapidly, and if anything, she seemed even more panicked than she had earlier on the phone.

Logan tried to extricate himself from her tight grasp as he walked her into the room. The last thing he wanted was for Keith to get the wrong idea about Evie and himself.

"Here, why don't you sit down, Evie," Logan said, practically pushing her into one of the wing chairs that sat kitty-corner to the couch.

"I want to introduce you to someone," he began, motioning between Keith and Evie as he continued. "Evie, this is Keith Mars. Keith...Evie Garcia."

"Hello, Evie," Keith said, in the most non-threatening manner he could muster. He could see that she was already on the knife-edge of hysteria.

"Mars?" she repeated. "You...you're..." Her brow wrinkled.

"I'm Veronica's father," Keith answered her unfinished question.

"Her father. _Her father!_ Oh, thank god! There's two of you to help." Evie seemed fervent in her thanks.

"Evie," Logan said, as gently as he could. "Can you tell us what's got you so spooked?"

Evie frowned. "I don't know where to begin," she said.

"Would it be a cliché if I said 'at the beginning'?" Logan asked.

A sudden knock interrupted him, startling them all.

"That's room service with our dinner," he said. "Let me just get the door."

Evie seemed to relax slightly as she watched the cart being wheeled in and Logan take out a bill to tip the waiter.

When they were alone again, Logan left the food for the moment and returned to his place on the couch, nodding to Evie to continue.

"I think you're wrong, Logan," she stated.

"About what?" he asked.

"I think I have to start at the end so you'll...listen to the rest."

Logan nodded again. "Okay, then, Evie. What's the end?"

Evie looked at them both then, sure they weren't going to believe her, certain they were going to think she was crazy, and took a deep breath.

"Someone wants to...kill Veronica."

Logan and Keith looked at each other, and Logan immediately pulled out his phone, scrolling down to a by-now-familiar number. Veronica answered on the third ring.

Logan expelled the breath he'd been holding, but couldn't keep the worry-induced harshness out of his voice.

"Why haven't you called?" he demanded. "You've had plenty of time to...do what you needed to."

Logan was mindful that Evie was sitting there, and decided to exercise some discretion, although he recognized that it might become necessary to tell Evie what was going on.

On the other end of the line, Veronica was taken aback. It hadn't occurred her that they might worry, but she acknowledged to herself that it probably should have.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm at the office. I remembered something important that I forgot tell Len before I left today, so I'm leaving him an email on our secure server. But I'll be going home soon."

"No!" Logan said abruptly. "Come here instead. To the St. Regis."

"What! I don't think so, Logan. I'm sure I'll be..."

Knowing his daughter well, Keith grabbed the phone from Logan to interrupt what he knew would be her indignant protests.

"Veronica," he said. "You need to get yourself over here right now, honey. Something's come up. Evie Garcia is here, and I'd like you to hear what she has to say."

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

"Fine, Dad," she agreed finally, hearing the anxiety in his voice. "I'll grab a cab and be there as soon as I can."

Keith gave her the room number and then hung up, handing the phone back to Logan.

Logan eyed the phone in his hand, thinking furiously. "Let's have dinner," he said. "I don't want you to have to tell your story twice, Evie, so it can wait until Veronica gets here.

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Veronica's knock came less than a half hour later. Logan practically ran to the door, and when he saw her standing there, his relief was so great that he had to exercise every bit of restraint within himself not to pull her into his arms.

She noted the tension as she came into the room, and eyed Evie curiously.

"What's going on?" she asked. "Evie, what's wrong?"

Veronica sat down in the second wing chair, and Logan nodded to Evie to continue with her story.

"Veronica," she said, turning towards her. "I'm...pretty sure you're in danger."

Veronica's only response was to narrow her eyes. She'd been in danger before.

"From whom?" she asked.

"That's just what I'm not sure of," Evie responded with a sigh. "Has my...father ever told you about his..._padrino_," she asked.

Veronica shook her head. "No, Evie, Matthew hasn't said anything to me, but I have...heard about the man."

"Logan told you about him, didn't he? I should have know there was a reason you asked me those questions the other day," she said, looking at Logan.

"Don't worry about that now," Logan said. "Just tell us what happened."

Evie sighed. "He was at the condo tonight. In fact, I let him in. He was in the elevator with his flunky - not the same one as before," she added, turning to Logan, "and when we got to the door, _Padrino_ just followed me inside. I assumed he had an appointment or something with Daddy. He asked to wait in Daddy's office. I...I wasn't sure what to do...but...it was _Padrino_."

She looked at them all, asking for their understanding. One did not ignore the wishes of _Padrino_.

"What time was that, Evie?" Veronica asked.

"I'm...not sure. It was after six. I think almost six-thirty. I don't know exactly," she said again, apologetically.

Veronica nodded. "Okay," she said. "Go on."

Evie took a deep breath. She was coming to the hard part.

"Later on...later on, I was in the hot tub. It's on the balcony right outside my room and I heard someone come out onto the other side of the balcony."

She turned to Logan and Keith, explaining.

"The balcony swings around two sides of the condo. If you're on one leg, you can't see who's on the other. So...I heard someone, which was...strange, because I'm the only one who ever uses the balcony. Daddy never goes out there."

She looked for confirmation to Veronica, who nodded and said, "That's true. Matthew doesn't like heights."

"So I listened," Evie continued, "and there was a voice, but only one, so I knew it was someone on the phone. He was speaking in Spanish, and my Spanish isn't great, although I can understand it better than speak it, you know?"

There were nods all around, as the three tried to contain their impatience with the pace of her storytelling.

Evie swallowed. "It was _Padrino_, and he was telling...someone on the other end...that they were going to have to go with...I'm not sure, maybe the other idea or the other plan. Something like that. He said...he said Veronica had broken her engagement to Daddy."

Evie stopped and turned to Veronica. "Is that true?" she asked.

Veronica nodded once.

"Is it because of him," she looked at Logan, "because of Logan?"

"No, no!" Veronica said hastily. "Why would you think that? Wait, never mind, Evie," she added when the girl opened her mouth to answer. "Just please continue with your story."

"Okay. He..._Padrino_ called you...a bad name, Veronica. I don't know why. Then he said that if you couldn't help Daddy win the election as his _querida_ or his _mujer_, then you could help him another way. Everybody would feel sorry for him when you were...dead."

Veronica gave a tiny gasp, but nodded to Evie to continue.

"He said it should...look like...an accident. And that it should happen at the ball."

Evie stopped and they were all silent for a moment.

"Are you sure that's what you heard, Evie? You couldn't have been mistaken?" Keith asked as calmly as he could.

Evie looked at him and recited slowly, as if from memory.

"_Veronica tiene que morir. __¿__Se puede organizar un accidente en el baile?"_

Evie stopped and looked at the three of them. Veronica was white as a sheet. She knew just enough Spanish to understand that someone wanted her dead, and that the plan was that she would have some sort of accident at the ball.

"Veronica," Logan said urgently. "What did you tell Garcia about the ball?"

"I told him I'd go. I had a feeling it would be important to him and it was. So...I said I'd accompany him. Kind of a...farewell gift."

"Well, call him right now and tell him you've changed your mind. You can't make it. Whatever the fuck you need to say to him to make him understand you're not going anywhere near that place!"

Veronica said nothing, but Logan could see that she was thinking over what he'd said.

Finally she said, "I wish it were that simple, but I don't think that will help."

"Why the hell not?" Logan shouted, jumping up from the couch.

Veronica reached out and put her hand on his arm. "Sit down, Logan," she said, "and listen to me."

He closed his eyes in an effort to calm himself, and sat back down.

"All right," he said, "go ahead."

"The way that Evie has explained the conversation she overheard, it sounds very much like...Salazar...did some eavesdropping of his own. That he knows that I've broken it off with Matthew and for some reason that has infuriated him. It sounds like they had some...use...for me in Matthew's life, but now that I won't be _in_ Matthew's life, they've found another use for me."

Veronica looked at Logan and Keith. "Don't you see?" she said. "If they can't make it happen at the ball, then it will be some other time. The threat isn't going to just go away."

"Then we'll just expose Garcia for what he is," Logan stated emphatically. "Then there won't be any campaign, so there won't be any need to use you in any way, and you'll be safe."

"Will I, Logan?" she wondered, trying to reason with him. "Weren't you the one who told me just a few hours ago that we'd be crazy to get on the bad side of a Mexican drug cartel. Did you think they'd be sending us thank-you notes for exposing Matthew? That would put everyone in danger. You, Dad, even Evie. And certainly Matthew."

Veronica shook her head. "We have to find another way."

Evie spoke up suddenly. "Drug cartel?" she whispered. "And...and who is Salazar?"

The other three exchanged glances, wondering how much to tell Evie.

"I'm not a child," she said vehemently. "If there's something going on with my father, something I don't know about, then you need to tell me."

Keith had only known Evie for an hour, but he'd had a lifetime of experience in delivering bad news. And he thought it best to tell her the rest.

"Evie," he said, "this will probably be difficult to hear, so are you sure you want to know?"

"Yes," she nodded, "I'm sure."

"Okay," Keith nodded in return. "As long as you understand that everything I'm going to tell you, you have to keep to yourself. You can't discuss it with anyone, not even your father. Most especially not your father. If he had any idea you knew about this, it could put not only all of us in danger, but him, too. Do you understand?"

Once again, she nodded.

"The man you know as _Padrino_ is actually Vicente Salazar, a high-level member of a Mexican drug cartel. The money for your father's education, hundreds of thousands of dollars, didn't come from church scholarships, or any kind of scholarships. It came from the cartel. They used the church to funnel the funds to your father."

"Oh, god," she said softly, trying to take it all in. "And what...what does he do for the cartel for them to...give him all this money?" she asked fearfully.

"That's just it, Evie, until this point he's done nothing, as far as we can tell. But now they've asked him to run for Attorney General, and you can imagine why. They want someone in that position who's in their pocket. This is the chance they've been waiting for."

He looked over at his daughter.

"Apparently Veronica had a certain part she was supposed to play to make sure he won the election, but when she broke her engagement to your father, she went off script. So it sounds like they're going with an amended script instead."

"I can't believe it," Evie said. "I mean, I do believe you. After what I heard, why wouldn't I? My...father and I have never really been close, but still," she looked Keith in the eye, "a drug cartel?"

"He must have been very young when it all started, Evie. They took advantage of his youth, and now he's caught in a trap."

"But isn't there some way we can help him, some way he can get out of this...?" Evie started to ask.

"That's it," Veronica said suddenly. "He has to get _caught_. But not by me and not for his involvement with the cartel. We're not about to bring down the cartel and I don't want any of us to get any closer to them than we already are. And Matthew doesn't need us putting him in more danger than he's already in, either."

"Then how do we do this?" Logan wanted to know. "I really don't give a damn about Garcia's safety, Veronica. Only yours."

"He has to be caught in a compromising situation, and it has to be public." Veronica could see it coming together in her head. "They wanted to use the ball, so I think we should use the ball, too. We need something to happen that will force him to withdraw from the race, something that has nothing to do with...me."

"Veronica, even if we could think of something like that, it's still too dangerous for you to be there. Someone is trying to kill you, Even if I'm at the ball, I can't watch you every second. Who knows how many people will be there, trying to make sure that Veronica has an 'accident'?" Logan's agitation was increasing rapidly.

"Logan, I know you're worried about me, but think. If I don't show up, Matthew might not either, and we lose our opportunity for a large audience of powerful people to witness his disgrace. And besides, I'd rather try to avoid something on that night when I know it's coming, than be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life. No," Veronica was adamant, "everything has to go down at the ball."

"I can have ten ex-cops around that place with one call," Keith said, picking up his phone.

"No, Dad," she said, turning to her father. "We can't have people obviously guarding me. That would be like a huge flashing neon sign that says 'We know what's going on. We know Veronica is in danger.' We might as well take out an ad in the _Chronicle_. They'll _know_ that we know about Matthew, about the money, about his connection to the cartel."

Veronica shook her head. "So no ex-cops hanging around. Sorry, Dad."

"Too bad all those cops aren't your friends," Evie said. "Then they could just hang out with you."

Logan jumped up suddenly. "That's it," he said. "Evie, I could kiss you! But I won't," he added hastily.

"Logan, what kind of scheme are you dreaming up now?" Veronica asked warily, noting the glint in his eye.

"We don't need the ex-cops," he told Veronica, feeling more and more confident about his plan. "We can have our own guards, but they won't look like they're guarding you. They'll just look like they're partying with you."

"I don't understand," Keith said.

Logan began to explain to them. "We know they're not sending someone to shoot Veronica or, I don't know, hit her over the head with something. It's supposed to look like an accident, but that still means that they'll have to isolate her somehow, separate her from her party."

He grinned, thinking about the beauty of his plan. "If her party is only a party of four, then that might not be too difficult. But what if it's a party of a dozen? And no matter what, at least three or four of them will be with her at all times?"

"And where are we going to get a dozen random people to try to protect me? What are we going to tell these people? What am I going to tell Matthew, for that matter? How will I explain them to him?"

"And that's the best part. We tell them the truth, because they won't be random. And it will be easy to explain to Matthew, because they'll be your friends, your oldest friends, many of whom you haven't seen in a long time. I've just decided to have an impromptu reunion of sorts, and I'm inviting them all to the ball." Logan stood smirking triumphantly, hands on hips, waiting for her to congratulate him on his brilliant plan.

Veronica gaped when she heard what he was proposing. She was right in his face suddenly, but she wasn't offering congratulations. "You can't just _buy_ tickets to this ball for a dozen people. That would be...well, it would be ridiculously expensive. Do you have any idea how much one of those tickets costs? I...I won't let you do it!"

Logan looked at her like she'd lost her mind. "Cost? You're asking me about the _cost_. Are you crazy, Veronica? You know how much money I have. Why would I give a flying fuck about the _cost_ of anything? Especially when it comes to your safety."

Logan's fists were clenching with the effort not to pick up the nearest object and smash it against the wall.

"You know what?" he said. "You still think you're fucking invincible." Logan turned on his heel and in a few long strides he was in the bedroom and slamming the door shut.

"Dad..." Veronica looked at her father, but she found no support there.

Keith shook his head. "He's right, Veronica, and what's more, you know it."

Evie sat there with a stunned look on her face. Veronica, always the epitome of calm and poise, had just put on a virtuoso display of temper. And as for the sophisticated Logan Echolls? He'd given it right back. Evie was enthralled.

"You two sound like an old married couple," she observed.

Veronica suddenly felt the red tide of a blush on her cheeks.

"Oh, my god!" Evie exclaimed, as her deductive faculties finally caught up with her observations. "You two were married? That explains so much!" she said, a lot of things suddenly becoming clear.

"It's a...long story," Veronica began.

"Well, that story isn't going to get any longer, Veronica, if you die," Evie said, in as bald-faced a piece of advice as Veronica had ever heard. "Logan's right. Why would he care how much money he has to spend to keep you safe? I think you're nuts," Evie told her dismissively.

Veronica stood in the middle of the room, thinking about all the stupid things she'd said to Logan that day. What the hell was it about him that made her normally rational self scream like a shrew every time he wanted to help her, or care for her, or, god help him, protect her?

Veronica squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, gathered her courage, and marched to the bedroom door. She knocked, but didn't wait for a response before she walked in. The only light in the room filtered in through the partially opened blinds, and it was just enough to see that Logan was sitting on the far side of the bed with his back to the door, silent and still.

"Logan," she said, before she could think better of it. "I'm...sorry. It's just...here you are, having to take care of me again. I...it makes me feel so...helpless. So stupid that I can't take care of myself. And I reacted...badly."

She watched as Logan's shoulders started to shake. Oh, god, she thought, have I upset him that much? Veronica rushed around the foot of the bed and stopped short on the other side. Logan was laughing so hard that he was shaking with it. Veronica grinned suddenly, and plopped down next to him.

"My god, I've missed you, Veronica," Logan said when he could speak again. "Nobody, and I mean nobody, makes me as crazy as you do." He picked up her hand and ran his thumb along the back of it. "I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. It was...childish."

She shrugged. "Maybe we were both being a little childish," she admitted.

He looked her in the eye, then, without letting go of her hand. "I know you're scared, Veronica. Who the hell wouldn't be, and I know you hate being dependent on me or anyone else, but..."

Veronica placed two fingers over his lips, while her other hand remained lightly clasped in his.

"No," she said softly. "Don't apologize. Your plan...it's a good plan." She smiled. "Always assuming, of course, that our friends will want to help."

"They will, Veronica, I know it," he whispered, grabbing her fingers and kissing them lightly.

Veronica felt her fingers stroke across his lips and along his cheek, and then smooth over his brow, almost of their own accord. Had she meant to touch him like that? She wasn't sure. But when she saw his eyes darken and heard him take a shallow little breath, when she felt the answering tug in her own body, she knew it was time to move away before she did other things she wasn't sure she meant to do.

"Wait, don't go," he said, smiling softly when she stood up. He still held onto one of her hands.

"Come on," she said, pulling him off the bed. "We have people to call and plans to make."

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There were a few issues that needed to be dealt with, some more immediate than others. The first was what to do about Evie.

"Maybe you should just pack up and go back to London," Logan said to her. "Stay with your mom."

"Well, since she sent me home as a punishment, I'm not sure she'd be too agreeable. Besides, what about the ball? I'm not missing that!"

"Evie..." Logan began.

"No!" she said. "I want to be part of it. I want to make sure that Veronica stays...safe. And besides, how do I explain to Daddy that you backed out of our date the same day you invited me? It might seem...odd or something."

"She's right about that, Logan," Keith said. "Better not to make any changes to your plans that would put Garcia on alert. If you break your date with Evie right after Veronica broke their engagement, he might get suspicious."

"That's right," Evie agreed, "Daddy is completely clueless about the two of you and I think your plans will work better if he stays that way." She folded her arms across her chest as if to say that ended the matter.

"Okay," Logan nodded, capitulating. "But is there anywhere else you can stay between now and Saturday? Anywhere that won't make him suspicious?"

Evie thought a moment. "I guess I can stay at Melissa's. I can just say that Daddy is making me crazy. Which," she sighed, "is certainly true. I'll call her tomorrow after he goes to work."

Logan nodded his head. "But, Evie, you can't tell Melissa anything about this. Not even that Veronica broke the engagement. Not a word or hint." He looked at her directly. "Do you understand?"

Evie's face was as sober as Veronica had ever seen it, all traces of her perpetual smirk completely gone.

"Look, both of you," she looked at them carefully. "I know I act like a kid most of the time, but, believe me, I understand. And I don't want anything bad to happen to...my dad."

"Your dad's not likely to get out of this scott free, Evie," Logan reminded her gently. "If he can't run for office, the cartel's going to find another use for him."

"I figured that," she said, nodding, "but I don't want him to get hurt. Or worse."

"I don't, either," Veronica assured her.

"Come on, Evie," Keith said, rising. "Let's go downstairs and find you a taxi. And when you get to your friend's house tomorrow, why don't you give me a call?" He gave her his number.

Evie hugged him impulsively. "Veronica's really lucky," she said.

xxxxxxxx

By the time Keith returned to the room, Veronica and Logan had a plan of sorts in the works.

"I called the same woman I spoke to earlier about getting more tickets to the ball. When she heard how many I wanted to buy, she practically wept. Apparently, it's been slow going this year. She not only sold me more tickets, she reserved us a separate table."

"How many tickets did you buy, Logan?" Keith asked.

"Ten. I bought ten."

"That many?"

"We might not need them all, but then again..."

"Okay," Keith said, "what's next?"

"We've been trying to figure out how to arrange to have Matthew found in a compromising situation, and I'm pretty sure we're going to have to get a little..creative," Veronica said.

"How creative?" Keith asked warily.

"Well, I was wondering, Dad. Do you know if Cliff is still in touch with Loretta Cancun?"

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Everyone had their assignments and by the following day, they were putting the pieces of their plan into play. Keith and Logan had already decided, over Veronica's token objections, that they weren't leaving her alone for a second. Since Logan could hardly move in with her, Keith went back with Veronica to her apartment and took up his customary place on her couch.

Keith would also be accompanying her to and from work, and anywhere else she had to go. Veronica had so much leave accrued that when she asked for Friday off to 'get ready' for the ball, she had no trouble getting Len Rosetti to agree.

Despite some misgivings, Keith asked Cliff about the whereabouts of Loretta Cancun, and was pleasantly surprised to hear that she was still in Neptune. He told Cliff that Logan would be in touch soon with a proposition for her.

It would be Logan's job to take care of rounding up most of Veronica's protection posse. He decided he might as well begin with Mac while they were still in the same city, because this intelligence was going to require a face to face conversation.

Mac was surprised to hear her doorbell ring at seven on Wednesday morning before she'd even gotten out of bed. She was even more surprised, when she finally managed to drag herself to the door, to find Logan standing there holding her favorite soy latte.

"Rise and shine, Mac," he said, handing her the brew.

"Logan, what the hell?" she said, taking the paper cup and bringing it to her lips for a much-needed jolt of caffeine.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

Mac eyed him warily, moving aside so he could enter the room.

"Why are you still in San Francisco, Logan? I'd have thought you'd be back in Neptune by now. You know," she continued, "you can't stalk Veronica into changing her mind about you." Her tone softened. "Much as I might want you to."

Logan sat at the little table in the dining alcove and motioned for Mac to join him.

"I think there may be a few developments I need to catch you up on," he said.

By the time he'd finished explaining about Matthew Garcia's relationship with the drug cartel, Mac was gaping and the soy latte was gone.

"So _that's_ why Keith called me the other night." She'd made the leap intuitively. "And those pictures you had. They're what started the whole thing, aren't they?"

"Mac, we never would have found out about any of this without your help. Veronica owes you big time."

Mac shook her head. "Veronica doesn't owe me. That's not how this works. We're friends. But that bastard!" she continued. "I presume she didn't waste any time breaking up with him."

"Nope," he said. "But there are a few additional complications, and that's kind of why I'm here."

"Oh," she asked, her brow wrinkling in puzzlement, "like what?"

Logan wondered where to begin, and finally decided that maybe Evie had had the right idea. So he began at the end.

"Mac," he said, "how would you like to go to a ball?"

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After he'd explained it all to her, it was easy to get Mac on board. She said she'd be damned if she'd let anything happen to Veronica. But Mac was still a woman and eventually she voiced more mundane concerns, like how she could find a dress to wear and where she might get a last-minute escort. Logan admitted he couldn't help her with the dress, but said he'd take care of her escort.

"Logan..." she began, a gleam of suspicion in her eye, but he interrupted her.

"Mac," he said, "this isn't information that we can divulge to just any random guy that you might happen to decide to invite as your date. Although," he added with a smile, "I'm sure you'd have no trouble finding one. But...not this time, okay? This time, it has to be people who love Veronica...and people who love those people."

He laughed. "Did that make any sense?"

"It did," Mac said, her mouth twisting in a wry smile, "but I can't help thinking I know where this is going."

Logan smiled in return. "Do you mind?" he asked. "Because I know _he_ won't."

"It's fine," she said, "but I have a huge project due tomorrow, so I need to throw you out so I can get to work."

"Thanks, Mac," he said, kissing her on the cheek and seeing himself out.

Logan left Mac's with barely enough time to catch the 9am shuttle to San Diego. From there, he drove to Neptune, and made it to the beach house in time for lunch.

He had a jam-packed day planned and not much time to get it all done. His first call was to Cliff McCormack.

"Logan," Cliff said. "I suspected from the call I got from Keith that things did not go exactly as expected in San Francisco."

"You could say that, Cliff," he said, "but I can't say I'm really unhappy about it."

"Yes, I would imagine," he said. "Keith also mentioned that you might have some short-term employment for my old friend, Loretta Cancun. She's, uh, pretty much given up her old line of work, kid. Just so you know. Not that she couldn't, uh, still. Woman looks damn good."

Logan laughed. "That's okay, Cliff. I haven't gone into pimping yet. Veronica said that Miss Cancun had some, uh, theatrical talents, as well. Those are what I hoped to hire."

"I see," he said. "I can set up a meeting for today, if you'd like."

"I'd like. And Cliff, when you're talking to Loretta, please tell her that besides her...um...fee, if she agrees to do this, she'll get a trip to San Francisco, and a stay at the St. Regis. I'll also pay for a designer gown, which she gets to keep once the show's over."

"Those are substantial fringe benefits, kid," Cliff said, "and I won't fail to mention them. I'll call you back."

Logan's next call was to Dick, who was predictably garrulous.

"Dude! I've been wondering when I'd hear from you again. What the hell's going on with Ronnie? She okay? How come you never answered any of my calls? You coulda been sick or dying and I never woulda even..."

"Dick!" Logan finally broke in, because sometimes waiting for Dick to pause for a breath called for more patience than he possessed.

"Yo!" Dick stopped. "What?"

"I need a couple of favors from you," Logan finally said when given the chance.

"You already got 'em, bro. Whaddya need?"

"Well, the first thing is, do you know anyone in the Bay Area who would have access to some weed?"

"Yeah, sure," Dick said. "You remember Milo from the _Surf's Up_ in Pacifica. He's sometimes been known to smoke a joint or two."

"Good," Logan knew he'd asked the right person. "Can you get in touch with him and see if he can get me some for this weekend?"

Dick paused. "I didn't think you did that shit," he said finally, "but, yeah, I can hook you up, no problem."

"It's not for me, you idiot!" Logan replied.

This time the pause was even longer.

"Logan," he said. "We don't give that stuff to other people, remember? You're the one who made me see that wasn't...right. And besides, if it's for Ronnie, I still remember the way she looks at you. She doesn't need any kinda chemical help to want to jump your bones."

"Dick! Dude! Get your mind out of my bedroom! Look, I'll explain everything tonight."

"Tonight? What's tonight?"

"Yeah, that's my second favor. I need you to come over here tonight. You can come earlier if you want, as long as you're here by seven. And don't make any plans for this weekend, either."

"Hey, Dude, can't you count? That's three favors, not two." Dick chuckled at his own joke.

"Bye, Dick. Don't forget. Seven o'clock."

Logan timed his next call to coincide with Wallace's lunch period.

"Hey, where you been?" were the first words out of Wallace's mouth. "Or you screenin' your calls now and I'm not makin' the cut? I even dropped by last night but no luck. So what's goin' on?"

"Sorry I couldn't take your calls, man. I wish I had time to explain it now, but I don't. If you can come to a little...meeting at my house tonight, I promise I'll tell you everything."

"A meeting? Does this have somethin' to do with the business?"

"No. It has to do with...Veronica." Logan just let that statement lay.

There was a long pause and Logan imagined Wallace struggling with how much he wanted to say aloud while sitting in the Neptune High courtyard.

"What time, man? For the meetin'?" was all he finally said.

"About seven. Can you..?" Logan never finished his sentence.

"Lunch hour's up, Logan. I'll see you tonight." He hung up the phone before Logan had a chance to say another word.

Logan decided to turn his last call into a personal visit and drove to Navarro Auto Repair in downtown Neptune. Weevil's head was under the hood of an expensive SUV when Logan walked into the garage.

"Hey, _vato_," he said. "Is there something interesting under the hood of that car, or are you taking a nap?"

Weevil's head came up so fast he just missed hitting it on the edge of the hood.

"You asshole," said, when he saw Logan. "I tried callin' you at least a dozen times since Saturday, and you never called me back. I thought you were gonna let me know what you found out."

"Yeah, well I've been kind of busy, Weevs. But I'm here now." He paused. "Thing is, I need a favor from you, but it's...complicated. So, uh, do you think you can drop by my place around seven tonight. I'd rather tell all of you at once."

"All of who?"

"Wallace and Dick."

"So, that's the favor? Come to your house tonight?"

"Uh, no...it's more like I need you to do something for me this weekend, you and Marisol."

"This weekend? I don't know, Logan. We ain't left Lucinda yet. I don't know if Marisol will go for it."

Logan sighed. "Yeah, I know," he said. "But just come and let me explain and then you can decide."

"Yeah, fine." Weevil nodded. "So, Logan, does this have something to do with V?"

"It doesn't just have something to do with Veronica, Weevs," Logan stated grimly. "It has everything to do with her."

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Cliff had arranged for Logan to meet with Loretta Cancun at a greasy spoon that was located on the outskirts of Neptune along the Pacific Coast Highway. Logan had never met her, but he thought the woman who signaled him from the back booth as soon as he walked in the door looked more like the president of the PTA than one of Cliff's skeezy clients.

"Hi," he said, sitting down across from her and offering his hand. "I'm Logan. Can I get you anything?"

Loretta shook his hand and indicated the cup of coffee in front of her. "I'm good with this," she said, "but you go ahead."

The waitress came and he ordered a coffee, too.

"Did Cliff fill you in on what I want you to do?" he asked.

Loretta shrugged. "He said a friend of yours was in some trouble and that you needed someone who could be convincing in a little con you were going to run. That about right?" she asked.

When he nodded, she continued. "He also mentioned some, uh, bonuses that sounded intriguing - a trip, high-class hotel, designer clothes. What he didn't mention was how much you were paying for the job itself."

Logan nodded. "That's because I didn't tell him. But here's what I had in mind. The trip, the accommodations, the dress, plus $5,000."

"Five thousand dollars!" She was practically speechless.

"That's right," he nodded. "Plus another $5,000 after it's over, provided everything goes exactly to plan, and that nothing, and by that I mean _nothing at all,_ can connect either you or your little performance to Neptune, or to me...or to my friend."

"Friend, huh?" she said, her eyes twinkling a little. "Well, Cliff said you were a little eccentric, but you're the first person I ever met who was willing to lay out more than 10 Gs to help a friend."

Loretta brought the last of her coffee to her lips and then asked for a refill when the waitress appeared with Logan's cup.

"So tell me about this plan of yours," she said, smiling.

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By the time he'd gone over the plan with Loretta several times, it was late afternoon. To avoid any traceable link between them, Logan provided her with enough cash to cover half her 'fee', plus all her expenses. For the same reason, he'd also purchased two prepaid phones. One of these he gave to Loretta, and the other he kept himself so that she could call him with updates, or report any problems.

By the time every detail had been nailed down to his satisfaction and he and Loretta had parted ways, Logan knew he'd have to congratulate Veronica. Loretta Cancun was a quick study and had been an inspired choice for their little sting.

He stopped to buy beer and snacks on the way home, then sat on his couch eating pretzels and wondering whether he and Loretta had covered every possible contingency. Dick arrived shortly after six and was a little put out when Logan wouldn't tell him about the weekend plans.

"Gotta wait for the others," Logan said, handing him a brew.

Before Dick could even ask _what others_, Logan was suggesting a rematch on the game console that was still out from the previous Sunday. Wallace and Weevil arrived within a few minutes of each other shortly after seven. Weevil apologized for being late and blamed the baby.

"Princess Lucinda spit up all over me," he said with a grin. "Had to change my shirt."

"Dude!" Dick said. "Gross! That's why I'm never having kids."

"And with that announcement, there's hope for mankind," Logan said, and they all laughed, even Dick.

"So, what's up, man?" Wallace asked, as they settled into comfortable seats in Logan's living room. "I almost spit out my soda right in the middle of the courtyard when you said this meeting had something to do with Veronica. Since when have you seen Veronica?"

Wallace looked at the other two, who didn't seem as surprised. "You both knew about this?" He asked them.

"I know a little, but not enough," Weevil said, his impatience showing. "Get the fuck on with it, Logan!"

"Okay," he said, handing around beers and putting bowls of snacks on the coffee table.

He took a deep breath before he said, "The first thing that you all need to know is that about six years ago...Veronica and I got married."

Logan sat back and waited for the inevitable reaction, which wasn't long in coming.

"Dude! I _knew_ something funky had gone down while I was partying my way through Europe," Dick said excitedly, as though he'd just figured out the correct answer to Final Jeopardy.

"How the _hell_ could that have happened and me not know about it?" Wallace complained.

Weevil just nodded and waited for the next part. He and Logan hadn't been in each others' lives six years ago.

Logan took a swig of his beer. "That's right, Dick, you were living it up on step-dad number five's dime, and Wallace, you were in Chicago."

"So sometime after that, Blondie got smart and dumped your ass?" Weevil finally asked. "Is that what happened?"

"Something like that," Logan said, although they could all see that there were probably a lot of things he was leaving out.

"At the end..." he looked away for a moment, cleared his throat, "at the end, we just kept it simple. Cliff drew up a divorce agreement and we both signed it."

Logan sighed and told them candidly. "In case any of you might think different, I'll tell you right now that it was not the happiest day of my life."

No one said anything. Not even Dick.

He smiled wryly. "But strangely, the story doesn't end there. Something happened, no one seems to know exactly what, not even Cliff, but the divorce agreement never made it to the courthouse, was never recorded. Which means..."

"You and Veronica are still married," a dumbfounded Wallace finished for him.

"Yep," Logan agreed, "that we are."

"So is that why you were on the phone with Keith Mars?" Dick asked.

"And what about that picture of Chardo?" Weevil wanted to know. "What the fuck does that have to do with anything?"

"A picture of...Chardo Navarro? And why is Keith involved? Guess I'm the only one who knew nothin' at all about this shit." Wallace was clearly not happy at being left in the dark.

"Well, if you assholes would stop asking questions and give me about five minutes of your attention, _uninterrupted_, I could finish this story."

"Okay, go ahead," Wallace agreed, still in shock, while the others just nodded.

"So here's the condensed version. When I realized that we were still married, I decided...I wanted to tell Veronica myself. I knew she was living in San Francisco, working for the DA's office, but what I didn't know, and what Cliff had to tell me, was that she'd just recently become engaged to a San Francisco lawyer named Matthew Garcia."

He took another swig of his beer. "Not the best news I'd ever had, but I figured I'd have to deal with it. When I got to San Francisco, I met Garcia and I didn't like him, but that was no surprise. I didn't really think we're gonna become BFFs."

Logan paused to focus on them intently, silently directing them to pay close attention to his next words.

"But what I didn't expect," he said deliberately, "was to find out that Garcia was connected to a Mexican drug cartel."

For a moment, there was dead silence.

"_What!" _ said a disbelieving Wallace, the only one of them who had known about Veronica's engagement. "That can't be right! You must have gotten the wrong guy, Logan."

Logan gave Wallace a half-smile. "Yeah, I figured you probably knew about Garcia, Wallace. Not holding it against you."

Wallace looked pained. "You know how it is, man. I don't talk to you about her and I don't talk to her about you. It's the only way it can work."

Logan nodded. "Yeah, I know. But today that's all gonna change. I know it's hard to believe, Wallace, but Garcia is not what anyone thought he was. And he never has been."

Now that he had their undivided attention, Logan explained about the Garcias, father and daughter, about his lunch with Evie, his impulsive photography, and about Weevil recognizing his cousin, Chardo. He talked about Keith's visit to the SDPD and the identification of Chardo's companion as cartel VIP Vicente Salazar. And then the final connection provided by Evie Garcia that Salazar was her father's mentor.

"Keith used one of his contacts to confirm that Garcia's so-called church scholarships were actually payments from the cartel. Mac helped us find the old priest from his church," he added.

"Mac knows about this?" Dick asked in surprise.

"She does now. I stopped in to see her this morning before I left San Francisco." He paused. "And while we're talking about Mac, I should probably tell you all that she knew about...the marriage...all along. There was a good reason for that...but I'm not going to go into it now."

They sat in silence and digested that piece of news.

"V don't seem to be havin' a lotta luck with men." Weevil said finally, shaking his head.

"Hell, that really sucks for Veronica," Wallace said. "I hope she kicked that asshole to the curb."

"Yeah, she gave Garcia the boot, but if that was all there was to it, we wouldn't be having this conversation." Logan saw the confusion on their faces and sighed, knowing he was coming to the hardest part.

"Okay, so this is where it gets more complicated," he said, launching into the rest of the story.

When he finished, they sat with their mouths open, their faces reflecting their disbelief that this could be happening to someone they knew, someone they cared about.

"Well, what the _fuck_ are we gonna do about this?" Weevil finally asked, angrily.

"We - Veronica and I - have a plan," Logan answered immediately, "but it requires your help. We need you to come to the ball in San Francisco this weekend and form a...a kind of protective circle around Veronica. I've already bought tickets for all of you...and your wives...girlfriends," he nodded at Wallace.

"And also," Logan continued, "we've got something else in the works. Something that will make sure that Garcia couldn't get elected to pick up dog shit."

Logan went on to explain their scheme for ensuring that Matthew Garcia would be thoroughly disgraced, and in a manner that would have no connection whatsoever with Veronica.

"So, a two-part plan. Think of it as," he smirked a little at this, "an undercover operation."

"Count me and Marisol in, man." Weevil said, clenching his fists and nodding in agreement. "Guess _abuela_ is gonna get her wish to take care of the baby sooner than she thought."

But he was still concerned. "Are you sure this is gonna be enough, Logan? To keep V safe, I mean? I got some buddies could maybe help."

"Believe me, Weevs, Keith and Veronica and I went over and over this. It's important that the cartel doesn't find out that she - or any of us - knows anything about them. So it can't be obvious that anyone is watching over her. You'll just be coming to an impromptu little reunion of Veronica's old friends."

Wallace nodded his agreement. "We're in, too, man. I'll explain it all to Emily, but I know she'll want to help." He paused suddenly, looking thoughtful. "Keith'll be at the ball, too, right?"

"I don't think anything could keep him away," Logan said.

"Does he, uh, have a date?" Wallace asked. "I mean, won't it seem strange if he comes alone?"

Logan nodded. "I suppose it could. What have you got in mind?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure I could get my mom to help. She loves Veronica, although they haven't seen each other in a while. And she's...my mom is...well, she's good at keeping everything together. Know what I mean? If things got squirrelly, Mom would be a good person to have around. And...she and Keith are...old friends."

Logan nodded, picked up his phone, and pressed a number, waited for the line to be picked up.

"Keith," he said. "You got somebody in mind to bring to this ball? Yeah, I mean as a date. That's okay, never mind, I've got a date for you."

They could hear Keith protesting as Logan held the phone out from his ear.

"You done?" Logan asked, not waiting for an answer, as the other men grinned at his high-handed tactics with the intimidating Keith Mars.

"Who? Well, how about Alicia Fennel? I have it on good authority that she'd like to help."

There was silence on the other end of the phone, followed by a quick comment. Logan grinned. "Bye, Keith," he said, hanging up.

"I'll talk to her tonight," Wallace said, "but I know her. She'll be so pissed, she'll want to be a part of it."

"So what about you, Dick?" Logan asked, turning to his oldest friend.

"Dude! I told you before. Anything you need, I'm there. A big fancy ball? It's a little late, but I can get a date, no sweat," he said confidently.

"No need, Dick," Logan told him mildly. "I've already got you a date..."

"Hey, bro, I don't need you to find me dates..." Dick began, annoyed.

"...with Mac." Logan finished.

Dick stopped speaking, swallowed. "Mac's gonna go to the ball with me? Really?" he asked, as though he were having a hard time believing it.

"Yup," Logan confirmed. "We really have to keep this whole thing...in the family. I won't trust Veronica's safety to just _anyone_."

"So I guess we should make some reservations," Wallace said, taking out his phone. "I hope it's not too late..."

Logan grabbed Wallace's phone. "All taken care of, man. You leave on the 9am shuttle from San Diego on Saturday morning, and I've booked everyone rooms at the St. Regis."

"The St. Regis? Geez, Logan, not my usual Motel 6," Wallace said, smiling. "I'll pay you back out of my next dividend check."

"NO, you won't!" Logan glared at him. "This is all on my dime. Do you think I give a fuck how much money I spend as long as it keeps Veronica safe?"

"No, man, he doesn't," Weevil said, clapping Logan on the shoulder, "and neither do we."

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When her phone rang at 10 o'clock that night, Veronica knew without even looking that it was Logan. She knew he'd met with "the boys" that night to ask for their help. She and Logan had both decided that it would be difficult to explain the situation to their friends without also disclosing their brief marriage, so she'd agreed to let Logan fill them in on that, too. Veronica had made him promise that he would let her know how it all went down.

"Hey," she said, tucking the phone under her head as she lay warm and comfortable beneath the covers.

"Hey, yourself," he responded, noting the drowsiness in her voice. "Did I wake you?"

"Nope, I was just lying here waiting to find out how what they said." Veronica yawned hugely,

Logan laughed, a warm, comforting sound that melted her insides. It felt almost intimate, she thought, as she lay in her bed with his soft voice in her ear.

"I think from the sound of that yawn I should probably give you the short version. I told them everything..."

She interrupted hesitantly. "Not..."

"No," he said quickly, softly, "not that. But they know about the marriage, that legally we're...still married."

Veronica smirked. "I can imagine what they had to say about that!"

"Yeah, you probably can," he said, chuckling, "but they're all on board with the plan and they'll be here on Saturday."

"Good. I'll be really glad to see all of them." She laughed. "Even Dick."

"So did Keith tell you about his date for the ball?" Logan asked.

_"_His_ what?! _ When did that happen?"

"Tonight. Wallace volunteered his mom, and Keith agreed."

Veronica sighed. "You know," she said happily, "if it weren't for the fact that my date is a mobster and someone's trying to kill me, I might actually be looking forward to this bash."

"Yeah," he said, "me, too. But right now, I think you should go to sleep. I'll see you sometime tomorrow."

"Mm hmmm," she said sleepily. "But do you think you could just talk to me for a little while? Just until I fall asleep?"

Logan sat on his own bed and pictured Veronica tucked into hers, all warm and drowsy, and asking him to put her to sleep with his voice. His body reacted urgently, and the longing in his heart felt as familiar as ever. _Veronica Mars, _he thought, _you'll kill me yet._


	15. Part II - Chapter 10

Part II - Chapter 10

Within a very few minutes, Logan heard the soft, even breaths that told him that she'd fallen asleep. He ended the call and lay back on his bed, but his mind was still filled with Veronica and he found that sleep was elusive. She'd been back in his life for less than a week, but he knew that he was just as thoroughly beguiled by her as he'd ever been. He'd been a fool to think it could be otherwise.

As he lay there, Logan made a conscious effort not to dwell on the current danger to Veronica, but to focus instead on the fact that thanks to Evie, they'd been given some warning. They'd made a plan and that plan was going to work, because he refused to accept any other outcome. He shifted his body, trying to find a more comfortable position, and forced his mind back to earlier times, happier times.

Like the first time he'd kissed Veronica. He smirked a little, thinking about all the girls he'd already kissed by then. He'd never been shy about it. He'd loved girls, loved kissing girls. But those kisses had always been anticipated, even expected. He was on a date, or at a party, or at least in the middle of a flirtation.

But the kiss that he couldn't have predicted ten seconds before it happened, that sudden intense intimacy on the dirty balcony of a rundown motel, that's the one that had changed him forever. That's the moment after which he'd unconsciously divided the events of his life between BV and AV: Before Veronica and After Veronica.

Although there'd never been a time when he hadn't been attracted to her. His lips curved as he remembered Lilly's long-ago question, "What did you think of Veronica the first time you saw her?". And his own adolescent response, "I thought she was hot." Stupid kid. As though "hot" were the be-all and end-all of attraction. But he hadn't understood that then, didn't find out for almost two more years that someone could get so deep inside you that it was like you became a part of each other.

And it had been as simple and as complicated as that. One kiss and she owned him. One impulsive pull into his arms of the last girl he ever expected to find there, and everything was suddenly changed. It was as if all the pieces of his life had blown apart and then reconnected into a new pattern. In which everything seemed to fit together just a little bit better. In which everything made just a little more sense.

And the certainty he had felt afterwards that he was meant to have Veronica Mars in his life, that feeling had never, ever gone away. He'd lied to himself on occasion over the years, rejected the idea that he could be so completely devoted to one woman, but that hadn't made it any less true.

Logan sighed and turned over, asking himself the same question he'd been asking since he was 17 years old. Was there any possible way that this time he'd get to keep her?

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Logan was tired after a restless night, but was still up early, determined to tie up any loose ends and be on his way. He was eager to get back to San Francisco, eager to get back to Veronica.

He'd retained his room at the St. Regis throughout the week, and some of his belongings were there still. But he wasn't sure how long he'd be away, so he dragged out a larger suitcase from the very back of his closet and began to fill it with whatever he thought he might need while he remained in San Francisco.

He went in search of his tux, the only one he had, finding it in a garment bag at the end of a row of business suits that he hardly ever wore. As he unzipped the bag, Logan tried to remember the last time he'd worn the tux. To a formal dinner at Hearst, he was pretty sure. It was early on in senior year, and the only reason he'd been there at all was to escort Veronica, who'd won some kind of academic honor.

He smiled to himself, noting that Veronica was once again the reason for his digging out his formal attire.

It had been tailored to him, so he almost dismissed the need for a try-on, but he finally decided that this was an operation in which he wanted every detail nailed down tight. By the time he'd zipped and buttoned himself into the tux, he was glad he'd taken the time. Because even though his clothing size hadn't changed and his weight hadn't changed, it seemed that his body had somehow morphed into a slightly different Logan Echolls. Apparently, he was broader in the shoulders and narrower in the waist. He was flummoxed. The tux fit, he supposed, it just didn't fit well. And he would be damned if he was going to that ball in ill-fitting evening wear.

He pulled out his phone and pressed her number without a second thought.

"Veronica," he said, when she came on the line, "There's a problem."

"Oh, no." She was immediately apprehensive. "Are they all backing out? I _knew_ we shouldn't have asked them to do this! It's way too dangerous. Or is it Loretta? Cliff said she was reliable, but..."

"Veronica, no," he said, his voice reflecting his distress. "It's none of those things. It's my tux."

There was a pause.

"Your...tux?"

"Yeah. It doesn't seem to fit. I can't understand it, because my size hasn't changed, everything's pretty much the same but..."

Logan's litany of complaints was stopped cold by the peal of laughter that reached his ears from the other end of the line.

"Veronica!" he said. "This isn't funny. What the fuck am I gonna wear on Saturday"

"Oh, yes it is," Veronica said when she could catch her breath, her voice still full of mirth. "It's hilariously funny. We've got a Mexican cartel to worry about, and you're concerned about the fit of your dinner jacket."

And with that, she was off again, laughter filling his ear.

"Okay," he said, seeing the humor. "Not an _important_ problem, maybe, but still something that needs to be fixed. Got any suggestions?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line before she asked, "Can it be re-tailored?" He could still hear the smile in her voice.

"Well, considering it's a little too narrow in the shoulders, I'd say it can't."

"All right," she said, deciding, "tomorrow we'll get you a new one. When I get to work, I'll find out where to get that kind of thing done quickly, and make an appointment. Right now, I'm late, Logan, so I need to hang up."

"Okay," he said. "And, Veronica?"

"Yeah?" Her voice was a little breathy, as she caught the softness in his tone.

"Thanks. I'll see you later."

Thank god there were no similar issues with his dress shoes, he thought, fishing them out and trying them on. He was running through a mental checklist when his phone rang.

It was Wallace, calling early to confirm that, as expected, his mother was eager to participate in Operation Protect Veronica. In fact, he reported that she was "pissed as hell." Logan had met Alicia Fennel a few times so he wasn't surprised to hear that at all.

"She also said that she'd be happy to see Keith Mars again, and I suddenly realized that I just set my mother up with her old boyfriend. Man, that's twisted," he complained.

Logan laughed. "Your idea, man," he said. "And I think it was a pretty good one."

He paused for a moment, wondering how to phrase his next question.

"Hey, do you think your mom might be willing to assist with the other operation, too?" Logan asked. "You know, Operation Latin Sting?"

"Say what?" Wallace objected. "I thought you hired a woman to take care of that. And this is my mom we're talkin' about, Logan, not some..."

"Wallace! Stop right there, man." Logan was chuckling and could hardly get the words out. "Not _that_ part of the operation. I meant with the baked goods. My suite at the St. Regis has a full kitchen, but I've never seen Veronica bake anything besides cookies."

"Mmm. Never gonna forget the taste of Veronica's snickerdoodles!" Wallace said, and they both laughed.

"Yeah, and I don't think those'll work in this...uh...situation. I'm not sure what might, but I thought your mom might have some ideas. Course I'll understand if you don't want to, um, mention anything about this to her..." His voice trailed off. What the hell did he know about moms? Everyday moms, anyway? The kind that would probably kick your ass for even bringing the subject up.

But Wallace's answer surprised him. "Let me sound her out. If she doesn't flip her lid...well, let me just ask her. I'll run by the house on my way home from school."

"Okay, man, thanks." Logan said. "And don't forget to stop by Bridal City and pick out a tux. They have your name so you should be good to go. What about Emily? Does she need...?"

"She's all set - and also all excited. She thinks it's some great big adventure. I can't seem to convince her that it might be dangerous. And she's eager to meet Veronica. After all the stories she's heard, she thinks V is a cross between Lady Macbeth and Cinderella."

Logan laughed. "I'm not sure Veronica would appreciate either of those descriptions," he said. Then his voice softened. "But she is...pretty amazing."

"Logan, wait." Wallace said softly, suddenly earnest.

"Yeah?" Logan thought they'd covered everything.

"I just...I wanted to say this to you last night, but I didn't want...it's kinda...personal."

"Hey, just lay it on me," Logan said, "whatever it is."

Wallace cleared his throat. "Yeah. So Logan, you were kind of a jackass in high school."

Logan erupted in laughter. "Stop the presses," he said. "Fennel states the obvious."

"Just startin' with that! Gettin' to the point. So you were a jackass, and then when we were at Hearst, I thought I could see somethin' other than the jackass peekin' out every once in a while when you thought no one was lookin'."

"Wallace, my man, I am touched and honored by these testaments to my character."

"But not right now," Wallace complained. "Nope! Right now I'm tryna say somethin' and you're bein' 100% jackass!"

"Sorry," Logan mumbled. "Just spit it out, Wallace. You won't hurt my feelings."

"I'm not tryna hurt your feelings, you dipshit! I'm tryna say," he paused, as though he were choosing his words carefully, "what I'm tryna say is..that I never knew that wasn't the real you. That the real you was..a good person. Sometimes even a great person. And that I never understood that it was..the real you..that loved Veronica. Or that it was the real you that Veronica loved. And she did, man. I saw it every day for years. Couldn't understand it," he laughed a little, "but I could see it."

Wallace sighed. "So I didn't get it..before. But I get it now. I hope you can find a way. You know, you and V."

He stopped abruptly. "So that's it," he said.

Logan was nearly speechless.

"Wallace," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper, "thanks, man."

"Um, yeah, gotta get to work," Wallace said. "I'll call you this afternoon and let you know what my mom says."

He hung up before Logan could say another word around the lump in his throat.

xxxxxxxx

His phone rang again as Logan was struggling to move the zipper around his too-full suitcase.

_What now?_ he thought. _I hope there are no last-minute hitches._

But it was Keith on the line, and Logan was immediately wary. He suddenly wondered how he'd had the balls to stick his nose into Keith's personal life, so he prepared to fall all over himself apologizing. But as it turned out, those preparations were entirely unnecessary.

"Hi, Keith," he said, picking up. "Everything go okay getting Veronica to work this morning?"

"No problems at all. Not that I thought there would be. This is her last day this week. She took tomorrow off."

"Yeah, she told me," Logan replied.

"So I wanted you to know that Leo is on board with the plan. That is, with the plan of circling the wagons around Veronica. I didn't tell him about the rest of it, about Garcia. He's still a cop and he might feel a little...conflicted. So, best he doesn't know."

"What we're doing isn't really criminal, Keith." Logan protested.

"I think there might be some difference of opinion about that, Logan," he said. "And I'm pretty sure Detective Leo D'Amato of the San Diego Police would come down on the other side."

"Yeah, maybe," Logan had to agree. "But the ball itself? He's coming with...?"

"Lisa. Yes, he and Lisa will be there. Strictly unofficial, of course, but I'll be glad to have another pair of professionally trained eyes looking around, trying to spot anyone who doesn't look like they belong."

"Hey, you know, Keith, my eyesight's pretty good and I'll be watching everyone like a hawk."

"I know you will, and I don't doubt that if it came to it, you'd step in front of a bullet for Veronica."

"You got that right," Logan said tightly. So Keith knew he still felt that way about Veronica. Well, he guessed that wasn't a surprise.

"So was there anything else? I'm just trying to get out of here..."

He could hear the older man clearing his throat on the other end of the line.

"Keith!" he said. "You're making me nervous. What the hell is it?"

"Okay, I officially feel ridiculous. It's about...Alicia."

A light turned on in Logan's head. _I know just how you feel, old man._

Aloud he said only, "What about her?"

"Last night...Wallace hadn't yet spoken to her, so I was wondering if..."

"Everything's all set. Wallace called this morning and said she's happy to do it."

"Oh, she is. Oh, that's good," Keith said uncertainly,

For just a second, Logan wondered if he was actually speaking to the unflappable Keith Mars.

"Maybe," Logan decided to make it a suggestion, "it might be a good idea if, you know, you...gave her a call. Probably put her at ease a little about the whole thing."

"You think I should?" Keith was hesitant.

_Am I actually giving dating advice to Veronica's father?_

"I think it couldn't hurt."

"Right, right," Keith said, then changed the subject abruptly, to Logan's relief. "When should we expect you?"

"Well, if I can ever get off this phone, I guess by dinner time."

xxxxxxxx

Veronica couldn't remember when she'd had such a difficult time concentrating at work. She loved her job, had, in fact, loved it from the beginning. But right now, today, there were too damn many distractions.

And she was putting Logan Echolls right at the top of the list. If she were being honest, she really hadn't been able to think straight from the moment he'd arrived in the city. It had started at that dinner in Sausalito, and things had only gotten worse. It had taken them almost no time at all to regain the intimacy of their years-long friendship.

Not a physical intimacy, of course, although by now Veronica had plenty of evidence that the physical attraction between them was every bit as strong as it had ever been. But she was really thinking of the way they had of connecting with each other, as though there were some special wavelength that belonged only to Logan and Veronica. That they could dial into without even a thought. She hadn't seen him in almost _six years_, dammit, but she felt just as close to him as she ever had.

Veronica sighed. She kept trying to hold him at arm's length, knowing that after this..episode..was over, he'd go back to Neptune and she'd remain here in San Francisco. This was where her life was, after all.

But then he'd called last night when her guard was down, and she hadn't been able to stop herself from doing something stupid. She'd asked him to talk her to sleep with that soft, musical voice of his, and had drifted off with the sound of him filling her head. When she'd woken, and remembered, she'd resolved anew to keep him at a distance.

And then he'd called about his tux! She grinned, thinking about the occasionally vain Logan, and his anguish because his suit didn't fit properly. But she _had_ promised to help, so she'd asked around at the office, finally following Len's advice and calling Barney's San Francisco store for assistance.

At first they'd told her it would be "impossible" to purchase a new tux on Friday and expect that it could be worn on Saturday evening. But then she'd asked for the department manager and by the time she heard a new voice on the line, "Amber" had come to her rescue. "Amber," who was getting married on Saturday to a man whose tux had been ruined by the dry cleaner, was so convincingly distressed that the "impossible" had soon become feasible, then probable, and finally guaranteed. She smiled, thinking that she'd have to find a way to explain the ruse to Logan before they visited the store.

She remembered the last time she'd posed as Logan's fiancée. They'd barely been speaking to each other then, were really only a few weeks past being mortal enemies. And yet, somehow, they'd pulled it off. Although, she remembered sadly, in the end it had made no difference.

And this time? She smirked, recognizing that there was a certain irony in the fact that she was posing as Logan's fiancée when she was actually his wife.

Veronica was roused from her reverie by the ringing of her cell, and she was relieved to see that it was Mac. They'd been playing phone tag for more than a day, and while they could have left texts, she felt that this was one conversation that wouldn't lend itself to fits and starts and cheesy abbreviations. This one needed voices and explanations and, very probably, assurances.

"Mac," she said, happy that they'd connected at last. "Finally! I've never left so many messages. I was beginning to think you were blowing me off," she laughed.

"I'm so sorry, Veronica," Mac said. "I tried to find time to call you back, but when you weren't available during my entire five minute lunch break yesterday..." Mac huffed a laugh.

"Five minutes? So what kind of slave drivers are you working for?" Veronica asked, only half kidding.

"Noooo!" Mac said. "They're good to me here. It's just that the project was due this morning and there were last minute issues, and, oh, god, I am _so_ tired!"

"Too tired to keep talking to me?" Veronica asked.

There was a small silence on the other end of the line.

"I've been up half the night, V, but I think this needs a face to face. When are you going to lunch?"

Veronica looked at the clock. 11:45. Close enough.

"How about right now?" she said. "Wanna meet me at _La Dolce Vita_?"

"You couldn't keep me away."

xxxxxxxx

As it turned out, Mac was delayed just a bit in meeting Veronica for lunch. She was halfway out the door when her phone rang, and she was so sure that it was Veronica calling her back that she answered without looking at her Caller ID.

"Mac!" The voice was loud, exuberant..and familiar. "It's Dick! Dick Casablancas."

Mac couldn't help grinning as she turned back into her office and sat once again behind her desk.

"You know I recognize your voice, Dick," she said, the smile still in her tone. Sometimes Dick acted and sounded like he was still thirteen.

"Yeah, Mac, course you do. I'm an idiot."

There was a pause while she mulled over that statement.

"Yes, you can be, but I've gotten used to it," she laughed.

"I don't know what's the matter with me when I talk to you sometimes..." He laughed ruefully.

"Was there something you wanted, Dick?" she asked, although Mac was 99% sure she knew why he was calling.

"Uh, it's about this weekend, you know, the dance. Logan kinda said that you were, uh, okay with me taking you. I mean, being your escort and shit...uh, stuff. I just...I wanted to make sure he wasn't just, I don't know, yanking my chain."

Dick stopped rambling and Mac could almost sense him holding his breath. She suddenly pictured big, blond, handsome Dick Casablancas waiting nervously to find out if she'd be his date for a dance and a party that was part social event, part con game. She was surprised at how endearing she found that.

"Yeah, of course we can go together. I mean, I'd like it if you were my escort." She didn't want to sound condescending, although she was pretty sure Dick wouldn't have noticed.

Mac could swear she heard him exhale on the other end of the line.

"That's great, Mac," he said. "This shit that Ronnie's going through is..."

"You know, we probably shouldn't talk about that," Mac said quickly before he could go any further.

"Yeah. I know that. Logan drummed it into me to keep it to myself. I just thought...since it was you..." His voice trailed off.

"Just...not on the phone," she explained.

Mac heard Dick's sigh as clearly as if he were in the same room with her. Then a chuckle.

"Someday," he said, "I'm going to surprise myself by showing a little common sense. But I guess not today."

Mac thought all 28 years were present and accounted for in that statement, and she gave a little laugh.

"Not too much sense, Dick. I still want to know it's you."

She heard his bark of laughter on the other end of the line.

"So should I come pick you up or will I meet you at Logan's suite?"

"I'm about to have lunch with Veronica...in fact I'm late. I'll have to see what she says."

"Okay," he said. "Go ahead if you're late for lunch. Um, Mac?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. I...just thanks."

"My pleasure," she said, surprised to find that it was.

xxxxxxxx

Mac's office was much closer to _La Dolce Vita_ than Veronica's, so despite being delayed, Mac arrived only a few minutes after her friend. They were a bit ahead of the lunchtime crowd, and Veronica had been able to snag the last available table.

"I was sure you'd get here first," Veronica said. "Your office is so close."

"Yeah, sorry, I got...held up."

"Anything important?"

Mac shrugged. "Just Dick, calling about the dance."

"Dick..._Casablancas_? Why would he be...? Oh, no, you're not really..."

Mac laughed. "I think you should finish one of those sentences."

Veronica fumed. "I'm going to kill Logan," she said.

Mac just smiled and shook her head. "I don't mind going to the ball with Dick," she said.

"But...but I thought you said that you _tolerated_ each other. And then Logan told me..." She stopped for a minute, considering whether to disclose this information to her friend.

"Logan told you what?" Mac asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"He said that Dick might possibly have a little...thing for you." Veronica tried to deliver the shocking news as gently as possible.

"Oh, that," Mac dismissed it. "You think I don't know that?"

Veronica's mouth gaped as she absorbed yet another piece of news. She was beginning to feel like she must have been living in a bubble while her oldest friends were participating in a thing called Real Life.

The waitress came to take their orders then, and when she left, Mac decided a shift in the conversation was necessary.

"Not to change the subject," she said with a little grimace, "but what the hell have you gotten yourself into?"

Veronica smiled ruefully. "It does seem like the gods of irony just won't let me out of their clutches, doesn't it? After so many years of not having any kind of serious relationship, I finally decided to be with Matthew because he felt...safe. I didn't think he could...well, hurt me. And he hasn't," she rushed on, "not...like that." She grimaced. "But to find out that he's 'connected'? Yeah, that was a shock."

"And now you're actually in danger from his...his pals? I just...I couldn't believe it when Logan explained it to me."

"Yeah," Veronica said faintly. "Me, either."

She shook her head, and continued.

"And what makes me even more furious is that I bought his bullshit about his passion to become Attorney General, and...and clean up local government. What utter crap!" Her voice was low and furious.

"But..you're doing something about that too, right? I mean, besides making sure that...you're safe, there's a plan for..him..too. Right?" Mac asked quietly.

At that moment, the waitress appeared with their lunches, and Veronica waited for her to leave the table before she responded.

Mac's patience lasted through one bite of her favorite risotto.

"Veronica?" she prompted.

For the first time since they'd sat down, a small smile lit Veronica's face.

"Oh, yeah," she drawled. "There is a plan in play. If it works - and it will - he won't be running for office any time in the near future. Or like ever." She smirked with self-satisfaction.

"Well, if it's one of _your_ plans," Mac began, grinning.

"Mine and Logan's," Veronica corrected. "I don't want to go into detail here, but I'll explain it all at the planning meeting on Saturday afternoon."

"Meeting?"

"Three o'clock in Logan's suite, just before we all change into our fancy duds. Then we'll be back there for the pre-party."

"Pre-party? Logan did call to ask me about the elevator, and I told him that wouldn't be a problem, but he never mentioned a party."

"You've been a little out of the loop, Mac," she teased. "Operation Latin Sting begins in Logan's suite just before the ball where our little reunion party will meet for drinks and...appetizers."

Veronica grinned. She knew this was a dangerous situation, and she knew that she had become the personal target of some very nasty cartel bosses, but she had to think it would all turn out all right. She had to believe that in the end she'd be safe. And meanwhile, if she was relishing a tiny, little adrenaline rush, who was to say she wasn't entitled?

She dug her fork into her manicotti and popped a satisfyingly large biteful into her mouth, chewing it thoroughly, while Mac just shook her head.

"What?" she asked Mac, seeing her expression.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Mac asked. "Going all James Bond again."

Veronica sighed heavily. "I can't just sit around and be afraid, Mac," she said honestly. "It's just not in me. I have to fight back, and I can't help it if I enjoy the fight."

"And what about Logan? Is he enjoying the fight, too?"

Veronica put down her fork and cleared her throat.

"He's always been so...protective, Mac. And before, when we were together, it always bugged me. You know it did. You were there. I know he was just afraid for me, afraid I'd get hurt, but back then it made me feel like he thought I was...inadequate. Like I needed a keeper."

"Well, as a matter of fact..."

"Mac! Not helping!"

But when she looked at Mac's quirked eyebrows and pursed mouth, Veronica couldn't help but laugh.

"Okay," she admitted. "Maybe I got myself into some situations I shouldn't have. Dangerous situations that I couldn't handle. But that was _then_. Since Hearst, I've pretty much managed to stay out of trouble. This was not my fault!" She was quietly insistent.

"Agreed," Mac said. "But it's still something you can't deal with on your own."

"No," Veronica said softly, agreeing. "It isn't. And Logan's been...great. He still wants to protect me, but this time we're working together. We made these plans together, and Logan's been clever, and smart, and he's had a lot of good ideas. It was so much better than him beating yet another guy to a pulp. Another guy who's 'connected connected'."

"It has been six years, Veronica," Mac reminded her. "I'm pretty sure Logan's grown up a little, too."

Veronica nodded. "Yeah, I know."

Mac polished off the rest of her risotto and washed it down with some water before she spoke again.

"So...afterwards," she said off-handedly. "After you turn the bad guys' attention...elsewhere and successfully remove one political candidate. Then what?"

"I don't understand," Veronica tried.

"I'm not buying it, Veronica," Mac said softly. "You know exactly what I'm asking you. What are you going to do about Logan?"

Veronica was silent for so long that Mac was sure that this time she'd really pissed her off, but she decided she didn't care. She loved Veronica, and she hated to see her making the same mistake over and over.

"Honestly, Mac," she said quietly, "If I could find a way to keep Logan in my life, I would. But I...it's just too hard. Something always happens and we...end up hurting each other."

Mac eyed her thoughtfully and gave her a sympathetic little smile.

"I'm hoping that someday soon you're going to figure out that's just your fear talking, Veronica. You need to find a way to stop being afraid to let yourself be happy."

The check arrived then and Mac grabbed it. "My treat," she said, throwing several bills on the table. "I gotta get back to work. Call me if you need anything. Otherwise, I'll see you on Saturday."

Mac was up and out the door before Veronica could say another word. Which perhaps was just as well, because she'd had no idea at all how to respond.

xxxxxxxx

Keith Mars felt like an idiot. He had a date with an old girlfriend, courtesy of her son and his...son-in-law. The last time he'd been "fixed up" had been in ninth grade when he'd been too shy to ask his crush to the spring dance. It had not gone well.

But back then, he'd had a full head of hair and infinite optimism. Now, he sometimes wondered if there wasn't more chance of his regaining his departed follicles than achieving a positive outlook on his...social life.

He'd made a quick call during what he'd hoped was Wallace's lunch period to get Alicia's number, and now the only thing standing between him and a pleasant conversation with an old...friend...was his own defeatist mentality when it came to women.

He'd been telling himself over and over that this couldn't possibly be a good idea. And yet he'd agreed to it, and so had she according to two young men who had no reason to lie. But he was nevertheless surprised. Things hadn't ended well between Alicia and him years ago, and while he'd seen her in passing over the years, they'd never exchanged more than polite hellos. Why _had_ she agreed?

Keith sat on Veronica's couch wondering what the hell was wrong with him. His daughter had inadvertently become involved with a member of a Mexican drug cartel, which was planning to end her life solely as some kind of macabre...publicity stunt. He should be obsessing over that, not casual dates with old flames.

_Screw it!_

He punched in Alicia's number and his palms started to sweat as soon as he heard the ringing in his ear. Maybe she won't answer, he thought, after the third ring. Maybe she's -

"Hello?" Alicia's voice was light and clear, just as he remembered.

"Alicia? It's..Keith." Wonderful opening. He should maybe switch to writing dialogue for a living.

"Keith. How nice of you to call." Her voice was pleasant, friendly.

"Well, it seemed like it might be a good idea under the, uh, circumstances. I haven't..caught you at a bad time, have I?" he asked politely.

Alicia still worked in software, but she was now in upper management for a Kane Software rival that had opened in Neptune a half dozen years back. Keith may not have seen her recently, but he'd cared enough to keep track of her life.

"Not at all," she said. "In fact, I was about to leave a little early because Wallace called and said he was coming by after school to talk to me." She gave a little laugh. "It's nice to finally have a job where I have some flexibility."

"You should try mine," he said. "Nothing _but_ flexibility. Of course, sometimes I'm flexed into working 48 hours straight..."

Alicia laughed. "There is that," she said.

"Look," Keith said suddenly, "I just wanted to say...really to thank you...for doing this. For Veronica, I mean."

Alicia was silent for a moment.

Finally, she said, "You know, Keith, it's not exactly a chore to fly up to San Francisco to be your...date for a fancy ball. I'm looking forward to...dancing with you again. And besides, I'm just so angry about what that man did to Veronica. If there was anything else I could do to help her out, I wouldn't hesitate."

She stopped, but Keith sensed that she had more to say.

Alicia sighed. "I'll never forget the day I met Veronica. Let's just say that I got entirely the wrong impression about Wallace and her. It took me a long time to understand their friendship. To understand Veronica. She's got that 'take charge' attitude, and at first I thought she was a tough cookie all the way through. But inside...inside there's just a soft, sweet center."

Alicia laughed. "I think I've just made her sound like a candy bar!"

Keith laughed, too. "Maybe a little, but you're right, that's just how she is. It's how she's always been."

"And what about Logan?" Alicia asked suddenly. "Wallace explained to me about their situation. It's rather...bizarre, I suppose. But...he and Wallace have been friends for a few years now, and I've learned that Logan Echolls is _nothing_ like his press."

She paused again. "Is there any chance, do you think, that he and Veronica might...?"

Keith sighed. "From your lips to God's ears," he said.

Alicia interrupted suddenly. "I'm sorry, Keith, but I'm going to have to hang up now. I promised Wallace I'd be home soon..."

"Okay," he said. "Just...I'm glad you agreed to do this, Alicia, not just for Veronica. I'm...looking forward to seeing you. Very much," he added gallantly.

He could hear the smile in her voice when she said, "Me, too. I'll...see you on Saturday."

When Keith hung up the phone, he had a feeling that his first fix-up in forty years was going to go considerably better than the last one had. What do you know? he thought. Optimism. On impulse he reached up and ran a hand across the top of his head, just in case.

Nope. Not yet, anyway.

xxxxxxxx

Between the arrangements, the packing, and the interminable phone calls, Logan hadn't managed to leave Neptune until nearly noon. The 2 o'clock shuttle out of San Diego had been sold out, and he'd had to wait for the 3:15 flight. So here it was, nearly 5 o'clock, and he was just now getting to San Francisco.

He'd just stepped off the jetway into the terminal when his phone rang. He followed the signs to Baggage Claim as he pulled out his phone to answer it. It took him a moment to realize that it was the wrong phone.

_Shit! It must be Loretta. What the hell did I do with that phone? _

Logan felt every pocket, finally finding it on the inside pocket of his jacket.

"Hello?"

"Hello, darling, it's me, Chandra." The voice that came through sounded nothing like the Loretta he'd met the day before at the diner.

"Uh, I think you must have a wrong..."

"Logan, it's me," she said with a laugh.

"Loretta?"

"Chandra James," she corrected in a voice that sounded like wealthy Californian, by way of Boston.

"The room is just delightful, darling," she continued. "Thanks for recommending this hotel. And I was able to purchase the ticket you mentioned." She paused. "Would you like to hear about the fabulous dress I got at just a fraction of retail?" she asked.

Logan laughed. "I think I'll pass," he said. He continued uncertainly. "But I _will_ be able to...recognize you, won't I?"

She laughed then, definitely a Loretta laugh, as she returned to her normal voice.

"I've always wanted to look like Jada Pinkett-Smith," she said, "but I'm afraid I didn't have time for plastic surgery."

Logan breathed a sigh of relief. "Well after your voice..."

"Acting, darling," 'Chandra' replied. "But you should know all about that shit," Loretta continued in her normal tones.

"Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure you have more talent than either of my...parents. Now you're sure you remember about the elevator on Saturday?" Logan was concerned. So many things could go wrong.

"Don't sweat it, kid," she said. "I've pulled off things that were a lot trickier than this con. And besides, Cliffie explained to me that this wasn't just some rich boy's game."

She paused, as if considering her words.

"I saw her a couple of times, you know. Your...friend. She...helped Cliffie out once or twice when he was representing me. During my less...law-abiding days." Loretta laughed, as though at fond memories. "Sure, I know she was paid. Hell, you're paying me! But that doesn't mean I don't appreciate a job well done."

"Sorry. I'm just a little...uptight," Logan said.

"Yeah, I know. Listen, kid, did you know that there's gonna be a presentation at this ball?"

"I...didn't," Logan said. "Does that help us in some way?"

"It's just what we needed. Let me tell you how it's gonna work, so you can brief your, um, team."

By the time the call ended, Logan had picked up his bags and was headed to long-term parking to pick up his rental. And he was far more optimistic about their plan. Plans. Both of them.

_Fuck, we might just pull this off!_

_xxxxxxxx_

Veronica had been home from work for only a few minutes when her phone rang. She tried, but it was impossible to stop the smile that spread across her face when she saw that it was Logan.

"Hey," she said, as diffidently as possible. They'd spoken only that morning about Logan's wardrobe issues, but she'd been thinking about him off and on all day. Mostly _on_ since her lunch with Mac.

"Hey," he said, his voice laced with the extra layer of warmth that was so often there when he spoke to her. "I've got a lot to tell you. Can you come here for dinner? In the restaurant, I mean."

"My dad..."

"And Keith, too, of course. I meant...both of you."

Had he, she wondered? If she hadn't mentioned her dad, would he have invited her to the hotel so that they could have dinner alone? She didn't want to know.

Logan broke into her thoughts. "Damn, Veronica. Wallace is calling and I really need to talk to him. I'll meet you in the lounge at 7, okay?"

She'd barely got "Okay" out of her mouth before he'd hung up.

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"Logan."

"Wallace. What's up?"

"She'll do it. My mom. Not only will she do it, she has something called Italian Savory Squares that she says will work perfectly."

"Shit! I can't believe it. That's just...great."

"So you got a pen or somethin'? She says she needs a few ingredients. Plus a couple pans. Says you'll need two for it to work."

Logan paused. "She done this kind of thing before?" he asked.

"Damned if I know! Sometimes I wonder if I know anythin' at all about Alicia Fennel. Now get that pen, willya? I'm late, and I don't need Emily all over my ass."

Logan laughed and grabbed the pen and paper from the nightstand. First time he could ever remember actually using them.

"Shoot," he said.

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When they reached the St. Regis, Keith and Veronica found Logan waiting for them just outside the lounge.

"We could have a drink first...or just eat?" He looked at them both inquiringly.

Veronica looked at the men. "I vote for food," she said, and the others nodded, unsurprised.

Keith asked for a table in the back to avoid the admittedly slim possibility that they might be overheard.

"Force of habit," he explained. "We certainly don't want any eavesdroppers."

They'd barely been seated before Veronica started in on Logan.

"You fixed up Mac and Dick! I thought you neither _encouraged_ nor _discouraged._" She was clearly not pleased.

Logan laughed and shook his head. "_That's_ what you want to talk about? With everything that's going on, that's your first question? It's just one night, Veronica, and Mac didn't have to agree to it. But I know you know that."

"He really likes her, huh?" She was still having trouble with all the things she didn't know about her friends.

"He really does. Now can we put that topic to bed and talk about something really important? Like my new tux."

"Oh, yeah, well that's the one that should definitely be at the top of the list. Your evening clothes!"

Logan smirked. "I like to project a certain aesthetic," he said. "So what have you got lined up?"

"Tomorrow morning at 11, we have an appointment at Barney's. It was the earliest time they'd give me."

Logan smiled. "That's great, Veronica. I wasn't sure you'd be able to pull it off."

"Oh, please," she said, condescendingly. "I've made grown men cry on the witness stand. I think I can handle persuading a department store to sell us a suit."

She paused.

"Although I may have had to use a tiny ruse to get them to agree. I'll...explain it to you before we get to the store," she told him, glancing sideways at her father in some embarrassment.

"That's my girl," Keith said. "Who said I didn't raise a clever little con artist?"

"Dad! It's not...that bad."

"I'm glad to hear it," Keith said.

The waitress appeared to take their orders and conversation was momentarily suspended. When the server left, Keith asked, "Now do you think we might discuss something a little more important than Logan's clothes or Mac's dates?"

While they ate, Logan brought them up to date on Loretta Cancun's progress. "Or maybe we should start calling her by her new name, Chandra James."

"I'm not sure I remember what Loretta looks like," Keith said.

"I have a feeling it's not going to make any difference. I think our girl Loretta might be a bit of a chameleon," Logan said.

"And in another piece of news," he continued, "Alicia has agreed to help with our...baking project." Logan glanced over at Keith as he let that tidbit drop.

"What! You can't get her involved in that!" Keith was more than a little concerned.

"We're all involved, Keith. And Alicia is the one person who can make it work, make it seem natural."

"He's right, Dad," Veronica said. She glanced over at Logan. "Although I'm more than a little surprised that she agreed."

Logan chuckled. "Probably not half as surprised as Wallace. I think he's still talking to himself."

Veronica smiled. "I can't wait to see Wallace, meet Emily. When are they arriving?"

"They're all coming on the 9am shuttle, so they should get to the hotel before noon."

Veronica shook her head. "I still can't believe they were all able to come help out like this, especially on such short notice."

Logan smiled at her fondly. "They're doing it...we're all doing it...because we're your friends and you needed our help. They all know you'd do the same for them,Veronica, because that's what friends do."

He held her gaze for several moments until they both remembered that Keith Mars was sitting at the table with them and they looked away.

Keith cleared his throat, wishing he could knock their heads together. "What about Matthew, honey?" he asked. "Have you explained to him about the 'reunion' and the 'pre-party'?"

Veronica's expression hardened. "Tomorrow," she said. "I didn't want to give him too much time to think about it."

"And what if he refuses?" Keith asked. "What if he doesn't want any part of your reunion?"

"Easy. He's still insisting that I wear the ring, so it'll be an exchange of favors. I'll wear the ring and he'll come to the party. Of course, I'll tell him that my friends think we're still engaged, so he'll have to play the doting fiancé. He'll be forced to agree. He won't have a choice."

Veronica contemplated, as she had so many times in the past couple of days, just how callously Matthew Garcia had sought to draw her into his criminal plans. How little he'd considered how that might compromise her career as a prosecutor. How thoughtlessly he'd placed her in a position where her life was actually in danger. She shivered a little thinking about what might have happened if Evie hadn't been sitting in that hot tub.

"Are you cold?" Logan asked, making a move to remove his jacket.

Veronica stopped him. "I'm fine," she said.

Veronica watched as the check arrived and the two men fought over it, Logan winning this time around. It was like old times, she thought. Like those few months when she'd been so happy and the three of them had felt like a family. They'd gone out to eat several times and the men had wrangled over the check every time.

Before they left the table, Veronica decided to mention the other thing that had been on her mind.

"There's something else that's been bothering me," she said.

"What's that, honey?" Keith asked.

Veronica looked unhappy. "I felt so...guilty at work today. I should be telling Len all about this. We should be doing something about Matthew, not just...just playing tricks on him."

Logan sighed. "What would you tell Len, Veronica? He's a prosecutor. He deals in facts. All we have is speculation, innuendo, and guilt by association. Enough to convince you to get the hell out of Garcia's life. Not enough to bring any criminal charges."

"But...we have Evie now," Veronica argued half-heartedly.

"Yes," Keith said. "And she's already taken a chance, helping us. I spoke to her yesterday and today and she's doing okay at her friend's house. But, honey, she's scared. What she heard is unsubstantiated by any physical evidence. But if they knew she'd overheard..."

Keith paused to let that sink in.

"So I've got to agree with Logan on this, Veronica. At least for now. That doesn't mean that you can't drop a quiet hint after this is all over."

"It's just...Len's wife, Maggie, she actually works for Matthew..." Veronica was torn. She was fond of Len, hated to see his family distressed in any way.

"As do a lot of other people, honey," Keith reminded her. "There's no reason to think any of them have any reason to worry. Depending on what happens this weekend, they may be looking to move on, anyway."

Veronica frowned. She knew she'd have to be satisfied with that for the moment.

As they left the restaurant and moved out into the lobby, Logan said, as diffidently as he could manage, "Why don't we have a drink in the lounge before you leave?"

Keith figured he knew his cue when he heard it. "Go ahead, Veronica. The old man's a little tired, though, so I'll just..."

But Veronica wasn't reading from the same script. "No!" she said quickly, and Logan couldn't keep the disappointment from his eyes.

Keith sighed. He knew damn well she wanted to stay. She'd practically leaped at the phone when Logan had called earlier. But her stubbornness was, as always, unparalleled.

"Thanks for dinner," Keith said, shaking Logan's hand. "My turn next time." He turned to his daughter. "Why don't you wait here, honey?" he said. "I'll go outside and find us a taxi."

He left, determined to give the kid a break and take his time. After all, taxis were sometimes difficult to come by at this time of night.

"You sure you don't want to stay for one drink, Veronica?" Logan asked again, doing his best not to press, however much he might want to. They'd been getting along so well and he didn't want to push his luck.

Veronica was torn, terrified of spending any more time alone with Logan. Especially at night. Especially if alcohol might be involved. But, oh, how she wanted to. The truth was that the more she saw of Logan, the more she craved his company. It was like an addiction, the same one she'd been fighting for years.

He smiled at her now, the soft smile, the one that did things to her heart.

"We haven't really had much chance to talk since last Sunday," he said. "Alone, I mean."

Veronica smiled at him brightly. "We're having a little adventure tomorrow," she reminded him.

"An adventure? I thought we were just shopping?"

"Ah, yes. Well, there may have been something I forgot to tell you. I had to tell the manager at Barney's that the dry cleaner ruined your tux, and then convince him that this was more than just a, uh, slight inconvenience."

Logan folded his arms and leaned against the wall, waiting for the punchline.

"And your convincing argument was...?" he prompted.

"Well," and now that bright smile had morphed into a self-satisfied smirk, "you may not have heard but we're getting married on Saturday."

Logan's face went blank, and then as the irony hit him, he gave her a wry smile.

"So, I have to play the part of your fiancé - again. At least this time you're giving me some advance warning, unlike the day you showed up at the Sunset Regent with a scrapbook full of wedding cakes. Don't you have any new scams in that bag of tricks?" he teased.

"Well, that one always seems the most plausible," she said, her smirk turning into a whine as she defended her use of the same ruse a second time.

"Oh, it's very plausible. After all, I seem to remember that at one time we _were_ engaged. For, if I remember correctly, two whole days."

Logan nodded his head sagely and pressed his lips together, an airy expression on his face, the very picture of smug condescension.

"If I need to, you know, find a way to get 'into the part' of your fiancé, I can look back on those two days for inspiration. I do like to think of myself as a method actor."

They were grinning at each other gleefully, anticipating some fun, by the time Keith poked his head back into the lobby to let Veronica know the taxi was waiting.

"See you tomorrow, Logan," Veronica said, grabbing both his hands and squeezing them before she turned around and walked toward the doorway.

"Goodnight, Sugarpuss," Logan called after her as she stepped through the exit.

Five minutes later he was sitting at the bar, marveling at the paradox that was Veronica Mars. She was still his wife, although she barely acknowledged the fact. But that didn't stop her from unnecessarily creating a situation where she'd have to pretend to be his fiancée, complete, no doubt, with tender glances and loving touches.

And yet...and yet...she was too skittish to sit and have a drink with him within sight of a dozen other people. He shook his head, smiling to himself.

Logan drained his glass, and contemplated the woman who'd stolen his heart so many years ago. She was a mass of contradictions, so afraid of her own feelings that she sometimes pretended not to have any. But he knew they were there, and he wasn't giving up this time until she admitted them, until she acted on them. No matter how long it took.


	16. Part II - Chapter 11

Part II - Chapter 11

When the alarm woke him at 8 a.m., Logan groaned in protest. For the second night in a row he'd had trouble falling asleep, and he was in danger of becoming seriously sleep-deprived. He desperately wanted to throw the clock across the room, but instead he allowed himself just one push of the snooze button. When it rang again nine minutes later he rolled out of bed and dragged himself into the bathroom.

He may have had one or two Scotches too many last night, Logan reflected, checking out his bleary-eyed self in the mirror. Sitting on a barstool, drinking in solitary splendor. Christ! He hadn't engaged in that kind of self-destructive behavior since his earliest days at the _Beachside Tavern. _It was not a habit he intended to revive.

It was only 8:15, and he wasn't picking up Veronica until 10:45, but before that happened he had two important appointments to keep. First, he needed to check in with Loretta Cancun in person to assure himself that he'd recognize her when everything went down. She said she'd changed her hair, but how much could that really alter someone's looks? Logan smiled as he stepped into the shower, letting the warm water soothe his tired body. He was looking forward to learning exactly how she'd managed to transform herself into Chandra James.

After saw Loretta, he'd be taking a quick trip out to Pacifica to see Milo Sussman at the _Surf's Up _NorCal franchise. Dick had promised him that he'd call Milo and make all the arrangements, and Logan hoped to god that Dick had followed through.

When he and Keith and Veronica had come up with the plans on Tuesday night, they'd debated this particular issue for what seemed like hours. In the end, he knew it was only her fear that had forced Veronica to concede the point.

That's when he knew she was far more frightened than she'd been willing to admit.

They'd felt pretty confident about Operation Protect Veronica, their plan to prevent any of those nasty 'accidents' from occurring at the ball. But they'd also agreed that that was only half the job, that Veronica would still be jeopardy until Garcia was no longer a viable candidate. If he were no longer running, then presumably the cartel would lose interest in Veronica. Or so they fervently hoped.

So the question had become, how could they precipitate Garcia's downfall? How could they ensure that he would be so thoroughly humiliated that his political support would immediately evaporate and he'd be forced to withdraw from the race?

It was vital that his fall from grace be in no way connected to his mob ties, because that could be dangerous for all of them, including Garcia. No, Matthew Garcia's disgrace must be seen as a personal failing. It should be utterly frivolous, very public, and render him completely unsuitable as a candidate.

As they discussed their limited options, the ball seemed to them like the best opportunity, and they knew it was unlikely there'd be another. The primaries were fast upon them, and should Garcia actually succeed in winning the party's nomination, the stakes would increase exponentially. If it ever looked like Garcia might actually stand a chance of becoming the new Attorney General, they would have no choice but to go to the authorities with what they knew, which could put them all at risk.

So out of necessity, they'd concocted their second plan, a more elaborate and detailed exercise which they'd dubbed Operation Latin Sting. And they'd have given themselves a fair chance of pulling that one off, too, if it weren't for the one inconvenient fact that Matthew Garcia generally walked around with a stick up his ass. That wasn't exactly how Veronica had put it, of course. She'd just said that he was careful and conservative, and that she'd never seen him drink to excess.

And that's when the debate had begun.

With Veronica's personal history, she'd been adamantly opposed to the idea of surreptitiously feeding Garcia a mind-altering substance, and Logan had been unable to convince her that they had to use whatever means necessary to disentangle her from this dangerous situation.

Perhaps surprisingly, it was Keith who had eventually won her over.

"Veronica," Keith had told her, "we're only going to have one chance at this, one bite at the apple. And we've got to make sure we knock it out of the park."

Logan wasn't sure if it had been the mixed metaphors or the baseball analogy, but Veronica had finally, reluctantly, capitulated. If Veronica ever again wanted to feel safe - if she wanted her life back - then failure was simply not an option.

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He and Loretta had agreed that they could not be seen talking to each other in the hotel. Logan doubted that the cartel would ever have her investigated, would most likely write her off as an oversexed middle-aged former trophy wife, with too much money and too little sense. But you could never tell what zealot might decide to look into her, so precautions must be taken.

The fact that she was staying at the St. Regis was hardly suspicious. A lot of wealthy individuals called the St. Regis their 'home away from home' when they were visiting San Francisco. But there were cameras in every public space in the hotel, and even a brief conversation could seem suspect, if someone were to make the connection. And besides, that's what the burner phones were for.

No, Logan only wanted to sneak a peek at the socialite Chandra James from Boston, so that he'd be aware of her presence when the "operation" went down. So they'd agreed to meet in the breakfast room at 9 o'clock. Not for breakfast, but for a "viewing."

Fatigue had delayed him, so Logan was a little late in making his appearance. His eyes swept the fairly small space surreptitiously, as he unconsciously looked for the PTA mom from earlier in the week. What the hell? She hadn't made it? Logan was starting to get worried, and was more than a little pissed.

Of course, his mood improved when the beautiful woman in the far corner looked up and smiled at him saucily. Logan smiled back automatically, a reflex action that had always annoyed Veronica. But, hell! A pretty woman smiled at you, you smiled back.

On second thought, he hoped he hadn't been too encouraging. He was not in the market for a casual hookup. That might have been his style ten years ago, but he'd left that kind of behavior behind with his youth. He was quickly overcome with guilt. Goddammit! Veronica was right. He shouldn't just smile at every flirtatious woman who came along, because one of these days it was going to lead to problems. One of these days, one of them was going to turn out to be...

Holy shit! One of these days, the beautiful woman was going to turn out to be Loretta Cancun!

How the hell did she do that? She looked completely different. From this distance, at least ten years younger. When they'd met at the diner, she'd been attractive in a conservative sort of way, but now? Now she was less Michelle Obama and more...Kerry Washington. Less loving wife and more...scandalous mistress.

When she got up to leave the room, there was a swing in her step that hadn't been there before. Logan didn't know how she'd managed it, but her clothes looked like she'd just gotten back from Fashion Week.

When Loretta/Chandra walked by his table, Logan was sure he caught the barest of winks. The waiter brought him a coffee, and as he sipped it he wondered what other surprises this day might have in store for him.

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Since he'd made it a point to stay away from San Francisco, Logan had never visited the _Surf's_ _Up_ shop in Pacifica. It was a franchise, anyway, and they had very little to do with the NorCal enterprise, except to ensure that Kyle's revolutionary surfboards were prominently featured. The franchise had been doing well, but Dick had made a couple of additional trips north when a more experienced hand was required and had become friendly with the shop's manager, Milo Sussman.

Unlike Dick, Milo had no financial stake in the shop he managed, but was a perennial 'surfer dude'. He was over thirty, but seemed to be permanently stuck in a late-adolescent groove of surfing, women, and getting high. It was that last activity that had brought Logan to his door.

"Hey, Duuude," Milo said as soon as he walked in the door, "you must be Logan." Milo was grinning from ear to ear, as though Logan paying a visit to the shop was the highlight of his life. Or at least his day.

Logan smirked in return. "How'd you know, man?" he asked innocently. "I left my special 'My Name is Logan' t-shirt home today."

"Whoa!" Milo was enthralled. "Where can I get one of those?"

"Hey, you're name's Logan, too?" Logan asked, quirking a brow.

"Nooooo, man," Milo said, his face a mass of confusion. "I meant, you know, with 'Milo'..."

He caught sight of the expression on Logan's face.

"Hey," he said, his smile widening even more, "you're just dickin' with me, right?"

"Yeah, sorry," Logan said, not sorry at all. This guy, he thought, made Dick Casablancas look like a rocket scientist. With a double major in brain surgery.

"Oh, hey, no worries, man," Milo said, his smile still firmly in place. "You're a funny guy. Dick never told me what a funny guy you were."

Logan was silent as he contemplated being the topic of a conversation between Dick and Milo.

Milo continued, nodding his head, as though Logan had responded to his last comment. "But he did describe you, and, yep, I'm pretty sure you're Logan." Milo was inordinately pleased with himself.

Logan was beginning to feel liked he'd slipped down some rabbit hole where the Mad Hatter was in charge. _This_ guy ran the surf shop?

"So, uh, Milo," he said, deciding to just get on with it. "I hate to eat and run, but I'm gonna need that item that Dick asked you about."

Milo looked perplexed. "We're gonna eat?" he asked.

Logan shook his head and smiled.

"Oh," said Milo, catching on, "you were just makin' another joke, right?" His wide smile had returned.

"Something like that," Logan conceded. "But about the..?" He quirked a brow, cocked his head, and left the sentence unfinished.

Milo's face took on a shifty look. "In the back, Dude," he said. "I don't usually like to do this in the shop. Bad for business, you know? Made an exception for you, though. Friend of Dick's."

Logan followed Milo into a room at the back of the shop that was obviously used as part office, part storage area. Milo reached into a desk drawer and took out a plastic sandwich bag, in the bottom of which Logan could see a small amount of product.

"This gonna be enough?" Milo asked. "'Cause I can make a phone call..."

"Plenty," Logan said. "What do I owe you?"

Milo named a figure and after Logan paid him, he took out a crisp new Benjamin and tucked it into Milo's shirt pocket.

"I was never here," he said, wondering if this pothead was going to get the message.

A canny look came over Milo's face then, and he winked at Logan.

"Neither was I," he said.

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They'd gone out to breakfast at the small cafe at the end of the street, the one that Veronica had discovered almost as soon as she'd moved into the apartment. If you wanted the quintessential American breakfast, bacon and eggs and toast, maybe pancakes, this place was nirvana. For Veronica, as long as bacon was included in the mix, everything else was pretty much interchangeable.

She'd really been enjoying having her dad around, except for the fact that he was watching her more closely than he had since...well...ever! She could barely move before he wanted to know what she was doing and where she was going, and this was now day three of helicopter parenting. Which would probably have been okay if she were 8, but at 28?

Not that Veronica wasn't grateful. It had been a long time since she'd had to worry about her physical safety, and she couldn't say she was relishing reacquainting herself with the sensation.

When she'd heard that mobsters were planning to use her death as some sort of "publicity stunt" to garner sympathy for Garcia, she'd been appalled by the absolute cold-bloodedness of the plan. It was one thing to learn that she'd been a pawn in a criminal scheme to get Matthew elected Attorney General. But to be slated to become a _martyr_ to something as mundane as an election? That spoke of a level of ruthlessness that was beyond anything Veronica had previously encountered.

She had to believe that everything that she and Logan and her dad had planned earlier in the week was going to work out. That the weight of fear and anxiety that had pressed down upon her for three days was going to be lifted soon. That she wouldn't have to spend much longer trying not to panic, trying to keep the dread from working its way up to the surface from the pit of her stomach.

Veronica looked over at her father now, smiling as she watched him wolf down his pancakes and glance through the newspaper. She knew she'd been extraordinarily lucky when it came to her male parent. No father could care about her, or for her, with more love and more diligence than Keith Mars displayed. And she could not have loved him more for being there when she needed him.

That's why she felt a little guilty sometimes. A little uncomfortable. Because it hadn't taken long before she'd come to the realization that as cherished and protected as her father made her feel, she only felt completely safe when Logan was around. When he was within her sight. Smiling at her. Taking care of everything. When she could, if she'd wanted to, reach out and touch him. Not that she did. Veronica had focused hard on keeping her hands to herself.

But Logan had always been a protector, had always wanted, very particularly, to be _her_ protector. And this week, she'd been very much inclined to let him. To sink into the safety of him.

Of course, she was _disinclined_ to think too much about exactly what that said about her.

Veronica glanced at her watch. "You about done, Dad?"

Keith looked up. "We in a hurry?" There were still a few bites of his pancakes left.

"It's just," she grimaced, "I still have to call...Matthew. Tell him about the pre-party. I haven't actually spoken to him since...Evie came by the suite," she explained. "I've kind of been...dreading it."

Keith nodded. "You've got your phone, right? Why don't you pull it out right now and call him? Don't think about it. Just tell him we're having breakfast and then tell him about the party."

"You think?" she asked, skeptical. "I shouldn't...I don't know...have a game plan?"

Keith shrugged. "Veronica. You're inviting him to a reunion of some of your old friends. _You_ may know it's more than that, but why should _he_ think so? I'm sure he knows nothing about any threats on your life."

Veronica nodded her agreement.

Keith continued, "All he knows is that you're doing him a favor. So it's not strange that you'd ask for one in return."

"You're right," she said pulling her phone out of her bag and scrolling down her contact list.

"Matthew," she said, when he picked up the line.

"Veronica! I'm...surprised to hear from you. You haven't changed your mind..."

Veronica could hear the beginnings of panic.

"No, no," she said, airily, as though everything in her life were just fine and dandy. 'I just wanted to let you know that our evening is going to be starting a bit earlier than we originally planned tomorrow."

"Oh?" he said warily.

"Yes. It seems that Logan...you remember that Logan is taking Evie to the ball? Of course you do. You mentioned it to me yourself. Well, Logan has gotten it into his head that this ball would be a great time to have a little reunion of some of our old friends."

"A...reunion?" Veronica heard the puzzled tone in Matthew's voice.

"Yes." She paused. "Logan's always been, well, just a little...eccentric. Got all that money he doesn't know what to do with," she continued condescendingly, as though she found Logan just slightly ridiculous.

"Indeed," Matthew agreed. "He is...quite wealthy."

"Yes, very. So he's invited a bunch of our high school friends to come to the ball. He's having a pre-party in his suite at the St. Regis."

Veronica looked across at her father, and she could see a slight smile on his face as he listened to her end of the conversation. She hoped that meant he thought she was pulling it off.

"A...party, Veronica? I'm not sure..." Matthew was hesitant.

"Matthew, look. I'll be honest. I haven't told any of them that our engagement is off, not even Logan. It's a little embarrassing, so I'd rather wait until after the weekend."

As she said this, she rolled her eyes at her father and hoped she wasn't laying it on too thick. Keith smiled wryly.

"I see," Matthew said, no doubt equating her problem with his own. "Well, of course, we can't have you embarrassed in front of your old friends. I'm sure when they see my ring on your finger, your embarrassment will fade away."

"Thank you, Matthew," she said, drily. "I'm sure it will."

"So then what time shall I pick you up?"

Veronica felt a stirring of panic. With everything they'd thought of, they hadn't considered this at all.

"No need, Matthew," she improvised. "My...dad is actually in town. In fact, we're having breakfast right now at that cafe down the block from my apartment." She grimaced at Keith. This was getting more and more complicated.

"You're not at work?" Matthew asked.

"Uh, no. Took the day off to visit with Dad. He's, um, part of the reunion, too."

"Your...father is part of a reunion of your high school friends?"

Why hadn't she thought this out ahead of time? Veronica was starting to panic, but then inspiration struck.

"Yep. You know I've talked about my friend, Wallace? Well, his mother is my dad's girlfriend."

She shrugged at Keith apologetically as he choked on his last mouthful of tepid coffee.

"But she's not coming until tomorrow, so he's staying with me. So there's no need..."

"Don't be silly, Veronica. I'll pick both of you up. What time should I be there?"

Veronica was stymied. She'd tried, but she saw no way out of this. "About six, I guess," she said finally, conceding the point.

"Very well," he said, "and please tell your father I look forward to seeing him again."

"Yes, I will, Matthew," she said tonelessly, ending the call.

Veronica looked at her father sheepishly. "Sorry, Dad," she said.

Keith just shook his head at her. "I'm done," he said, indicating his empty plate.

xxxxxxxx

_This is not a date,_ she had to keep reminding herself. _This is NOT a date._ _I'm just helping him out. _

By the time Logan arrived to pick her up for their trip to Barney's, Veronica had changed her clothes three times. She'd been dressed in everyday jeans and a t-shirt when she suddenly remembered that she was not practical Veronica today, but instead that ditz, Amber. And Amber would never go into a store like Barney's wearing anything other than an _ensemble_.

Veronica had been rooting through her closet, trying to come up with some combination of clothing that looked like it might be Barney's-worthy. Her bed was now piled high with rejected outfits.

She'd finally settled on a pair of skinny jeans that she'd bought on impulse one day. She'd added a sheer pale pink blouse with a deep V neckline, and a pair of casual strappy sandals. When she'd looked in the mirror, the neckline had seemed a little...bare, so'd she filled it in with triple-strand of fake pearls that she'd had for at least 10 years.

Veronica took another look in the mirror and was finally satisfied. Mac had been with her on one of their rarer than rare shopping trips and had talked her into buying the blouse. Mac told Veronica that she needed at least one blouse in her wardrobe that would get her sent home by the judge if she wore it to court.

Veronica frowned suddenly. Still...maybe she was too...too...

She was considering whether to look for outfit number four when she glanced at the clock.

Shit! It was 10:40. Logan would be downstairs in five minutes and there was no place to park so she needed to be waiting for him. She'd tried to convince him it was nuts to drive in the city, but he said he had other errands to do later and would need the car. Veronica had told herself that she was _not, definitely not,_ disappointed that their day would be cut short by his other obligations.

_This is not a date, _she repeated to herself, saying goodbye to Keith and running out the door. _That_ _will be my mantra today. _

xxxxxxxx

When she exited the outside door, Veronica found Logan leaning up against his rental, which he'd parked nonchalantly in a No Parking zone. He hurriedly opened the car door for her, but there was nothing hurried at all in the once over he gave her. Logan raised his brows questioningly.

Veronica couldn't help the pink tinge that covered her cheeks. "Amber would wear this outfit," she explained, closing the door and buckling her seatbelt.

"Well, it looks great on Veronica, too," Logan smirked, settling into the driver's seat. He started the car and pulled away from the curb.

They parked in a garage not far from Barney's and walked the rest of the way, reaching the evening wear section in the men's department at precisely 11 o'clock. Logan watched with some amusement as Veronica immediately shifted into "Amber mode."

Her mega-watt smile was in full evidence as she looped her arm through his and pulled herself as close to him as humanly possible without actually attaching herself to his body. Shopping was far from his favorite activity, but Logan thought he might just enjoy this particular trip.

They were wandering around aimlessly when a young man appeared, offering assistance. Before Logan could open his mouth, "Amber" spoke up.

"Oh," she said, in a tone that was halfway between supplicant and shrew, "we have an appointment with M. Antoine. My fiancé needs to buy a tuxedo for our wedding tomorrow."

The young man's lips pursed in a slightly disdainful expression. "Well, miss, I'm afraid that will be imposs..."

"Never mind, Sebastian," an older man emerged suddenly from a nearby doorway. "I have this one."

Sebastian's brows climbed so high that they threatened to mingle with his hairline, but he bowed in deference to the older man. "Of course," he said, backing away.

"Are you M. Antoine?" Veronica's alter ego gushed. "Thank you so much for helping us out. I'm Amber and, um, this is my fiancé, Logan."

M. Antoine had been so busy admiring the vision that was Veronica/Amber, that he had thus far paid no attention to her companion. He did so now, looking Logan over thoroughly, taking in the cut of his clothes, the quality of the material, and, with some admiration, the man himself.

"Well," he said finally. "WELL! I see!" M. Antoine walked all around Logan, peering at him from every angle, as though he were considering him for a modeling job.

Veronica gushed again, grinning idiotically. "Yes, isn't he just _yummy_?" she said. "Aren't I the luckiest girl ever?"

Logan's smirk became fixed. He wasn't sure which he was enjoying more, Veronica's acting or her admiring looks. Until it dawned on him that perhaps they were one and the same. He frowned.

"What's the matter, baby?" Veronica asked in her own voice, her brow wrinkling in concern.

"Nothing, _baby_," he answered, smiling suddenly. "Let's do this."

"And what style tuxedo were you thinking of, sir?" M. Antoine asked, removing Logan's jacket. But before Logan could utter even a single word, M. Antoine spoke again.

"Oh, my," he said. "With those shoulders, I see nothing but a high notched collar. _Nothing_!"

M. Antoine was very emphatic in his opinions about clothing.

"I'll bring some out and you can try on the jackets," he said, pulling out a tape measure and applying it at various angles all over Logan's body. "If the jacket fits properly, it will be easier to alter the pants. Oh, yes," M. Antoine said enthusiastically, looking Logan over like he was a piece of finely-chiseled statuary. "My, my."

As soon as he left the room, Logan and Veronica burst into the giggles they had been holding in so admirably.

"_My, my,_" Veronica repeated, howling with laughter.

"Shut up!" Logan barked at her. "You picked this place, _Amber_."

"Well, it was the only one - sh! here he comes," she said, looking sideways at Logan and readying "Amber's" smile again.

"Here we are, sir," M. Antoine declared, wheeling in a garment trolley containing a half dozen tuxedos covered in heavy transparent plastic.

Logan approached the cart and perused the offerings, discarding two immediately. Veronica agreed. On one suit, the lapel was so extreme, it was in danger of falling into the "zoot suit" category. The other was double breasted, which Logan despised. The other four he agreed to try on. But none of them looked exactly...right.

"Well," M. Antoine considered. "There are some others in your size, but they may be a little...that is..." He stopped.

"Yes?" Logan prompted, annoyed. "They may be a little..._what_? Are there other possibilities, or is this all you have?" He spoke with all the disdain and impatience of the wealthy, privileged individual that he was, although he rarely exhibited such behavior anymore.

"Um, baby," 'Amber' intervened suddenly. "Could I talk to you for a minute?" She smiled brightly, wrinkling her nose playfully at M. Antoine.

"Of course, Sugarpuss," Logan answered, ushering her to the far corner of the room.

"What?" he huffed, beginning to get irritated.

"Logan!" Veronica hissed at him. "What are you doing?" She gritted it out, her lips barely moving and her teeth clenched so tightly that Logan thought surely her jaw must be starting to ache.

"Do you want a new tuxedo that will be ready by tomorrow," she continued to upbraid him, "or would you rather just piss this guy off? Because he's doing us a favor and we're out of options if this doesn't work."

Logan sighed. "Well, what the hell is wrong with the guy?" he whined. "He's got other suits but he doesn't want to show them to me? Who's he saving them for, Prince Will?"

"Um, I think...no, actually I'm pretty sure, he's wondering if you can, um, afford them."

"_What? Why?_ He knows who I am, doesn't he?" Logan never asked anyone for special treatment, but he was used to the fact that people recognized his name, and that would most definitely include anyone who was actually trying to _sell_ him something. Of course, this was NorCal, so perhaps...

Veronica frowned. "It's _possible_ I didn't actually tell him your name when I made the appointment."

"Well, why the hell _not_?" he asked, testily.

"Because," she hissed through clenched teeth, "I couldn't tell him you were my fiancé _and_ claim you were Logan Echolls. That might have raised some eyebrows. We could have been met here by a hoard of paparazzi!"

"But what about when I pay the bill?" he asked reasonably. "He'd see the name on my credit card then."

"Yes," she agreed, still smiling brightly at M. Antoine, tapping his toe impatiently across the room. "But by then it would be too late!"

Logan considered a moment, then wheeled around, giving the store clerk his most ingratiating smile.

"I'm afraid there's been a misunderstanding," he said, and watched as M. Antoine's face took on a resigned look.

"Of course," the man said. "Perhaps you might find something at, um, Macy's." He tried unsuccessfully to hide his disdain.

"Oh, I don't think you understand," Logan said. "The thing is..."

He approached the other man and spoke as if letting him in on a secret.

"The thing is," he began again, "I was thinking more of a designer tuxedo. Hugo Boss, Tom Ford..."

"Isaia!" M. Antoine exclaimed excitedly, all smiles now. "I know just the suit! Here, get these out of here," he barked to Sebastian, pointing to the trolley of rejected tuxedos. "And you," he spoke to Logan almost playfully, as if they'd shared a confidence, "don't you even move."

No more than two minutes later, M. Antoine had returned with another garment trolley bearing just three tuxedos this time.

"I brought out an assortment but I really think it's the Isaia that we're just going to love," he said in such an excited tone that Logan wondered exactly who was going to be wearing this suit.

M. Antoine removed the jacket of the Isaia tuxedo from its protective covering and slipped it onto Logan's shoulders, somehow managing to squeeze his left bicep in the process.

When the man stepped away to admire him from a distance, Logan sighed and said to Veronica out of the corner of his mouth,"You know, Woody Goodman felt me up like that once, too, and I can't say I enjoyed the sensation any more now than I did then."

Veronica's eyes widened. "What!" she said under her breath. "You never told me that!"

"My goodness! Something about 'early Logan' that Veronica doesn't know," he whispered, smirking. "It hardly seems possible."

"So what do you think, sir?" M. Antoine had been waiting patiently for a reaction, because really, how could the man not _see_ that the jacket was perfection?

Logan glanced at himself in the mirror, shrugged his shoulders once or twice, looked at the inside of the jacket, checking the available pockets. He buttoned and unbuttoned the jacket a few times.

M. Antoine was mystified at the apparent failure of his first choice, and opened his mouth to offer one of the others.

"I'll take it," Logan said suddenly, in a tone that Veronica had never heard him use before. "But I need any alterations done immediately and it must be delivered to my suite at the St. Regis by noon tomorrow."

M. Antoine was about to discreetly inquire if the gentleman would wish to know the price of the ensemble, but then he heard "suite at the St. Regis" and mentally shrugged.

Logan laughed at the expression on Veronica's face and winked at her suddenly. "You like my 'rich asshole' voice?" he asked in a low tone, while she shook with silent glee.

M. Antoine asked Logan if he'd care to step into the dressing room to try on the pants, and Logan said he certainly would, but first he'd like to thank his beautiful fiancé properly for all her help.

"You did a great job taking care of this, baby," Logan exclaimed enthusiastically, pulling her suddenly into his arms. Before she could react, he had bent down and smacked her quickly but soundly on the lips.

It was over in a second, but Veronica blushed like a schoolgirl. Logan winked at her and said, "I knew we'd have fun today, Sugarpuss."

The jacket had fit almost perfectly, but the measurements for the alterations on the pants took longer than the entire selection process, and Veronica had all that time to think about what had just happened. She ran through a host of emotions, some of them twice. By turns she was excited, upset, elated, angry, embarrassed, thrilled, confused, and peeved. That last one was in the rotation when Logan finally emerged from the men's fitting room, and when he saw the expression on her face, he gave her a sheepish grin.

"I just have to pay the man, and then we can go," he said, trying to gauge her mood.

When Logan handed in his credit card, M. Antoine's eyes widened, and he shot a knowing look at Logan.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Echolls," he apologized profusely, practically simpering. "I had no idea you were _that_ Logan. And congratulations!"

Logan quirked a brow, forgetting for a moment his role in this well-scripted scene.

"On your marriage, I mean." Poor M. Antoine wondered if he were being a bit too forward, but he just couldn't help himself. "And may I say that Mrs. Echolls, that is of course the _future_ Mrs. Echolls...well, you're a lucky man."

Logan looked over at Veronica, sitting several feet away and blithely unaware of their conversation.

"That I am," he said, adding silently, _or at least I damn well will be soon._

xxxxxxxx

They had no sooner returned to the car than Veronica eyed him accusingly.

Here it comes, he thought, already wincing in anticipation of the tongue-lashing he was expecting, and which he no doubt richly deserved. But she must have changed her mind, because silence reigned as he put the ticket into the slot and watched the arm rise, allowing them to exit the lot.

Logan was puzzled at first, until he realized that for her to chastise him about that kiss, to bring it up in any way at all, she'd have to talk about it. They'd have to discuss it. And apparently, they were just going to ignore it.

He sighed. "Where to?" he asked her.

Veronica turned to him in confusion. "I thought you had, um, some other errands. You can just drop me off if you want."

"And what if I don't want? Why don't we get some lunch? Although I'm a little overdone on the Italian this week, so maybe..."

"The mall," she said suddenly. "If you really have time," he nodded his agreement, "then I'd like to go to the mall. I need some shoes to go with my dress."

"Sure, okay," he said, frowning in confusion, "but why didn't you just look in Barney's?"

"Logan," she was shaking her head. He was still just as clueless as he'd ever been about some things. "I could never afford to buy shoes there. I'll just go to DSW."

With the help of some GPS magic, they were soon entering Veronica's favorite mall. She led him directly to the giant shoe retailer.

"DSW?" Logan asked, looking around at all the shoes on display. "What does that stand for?"

Veronica peered at him, shaking her head. Logan was nothing if not unpredictable. Why the hell did he want to know that?

"Uh, I think it's Designer Shoe Warehouse. Something like that. Why?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I've just never been to a store like this before."

Veronica smiled in amusement.

"So, maybe I'll wander over to the men's side while you're trying on shoes," he said, sauntering off.

Veronica rolled her eyes and shook her head. Sometimes Logan's utter fascination when he found there was something that "regular folks" did that he knew nothing about was downright endearing. She watched him practically skipping down the aisles, making his way from running shoes toward the dress shoes.

In truth, Veronica had bought her shoes for the ball the same day she'd found the dress on the final sale rack at Nordstrom. But she'd opted for only two-inch heels, as she always did when dressing for Matthew, even though she knew the gown would look far better with a higher heel.

And maybe, she decided, she'd need that added height. Maybe she'd walk..or..or dance with someone who was a little taller than Matthew. Veronica very determinedly did NOT take inventory of the heights of Wallace, Weevil, Leo, or even her father. Goddammit! Maybe she'd be forced to dance with Dick. She couldn't possibly allow poor Mac to be stuck with him all night!

By the time she'd found just the right shoe, she saw Logan coming towards her, his arms filled with boxes and a huge smile on his face.

"How come nobody ever told me about this place before?" he asked, as Veronica just gaped at him.

"Are you taking all those?" she asked in wonder. Veronica could hardly believe it. Multi-millionaire Logan was buying out the off-price shoe store. She hoped there were no paparazzi around.

xxxxxxxx

They were still in the checkout line when a very distinct growl was heard from the vicinity of Veronica's stomach, and Logan smiled at her affectionately. "It's after one," he said. I think I should get you fed before you faint on me and I have to carry you out of this place. I couldn't handle you plus all my new shoes."

"Very funny," she said, but a few minutes later her mouth watered in anticipation, as they headed toward the food court and a dozen different tantalizing scents assailed her.

They were surrounded by their purchases, wolfing down burgers, when the memory hit him and Logan asked suddenly, "Do you remember? The last time we had lunch at the food court in the mall?"

For a long time, Veronica didn't answer, instead slowly chewing and swallowing her food. Logan gave himself a mental kick for speaking without fully considering where this memory might lead. He was afraid he'd gone too far, pushed her beyond some invisible boundary that she was unwilling to cross, by bringing up the one part of their shared past that she so clearly didn't want to discuss.

Then she smiled. "I do," she said carefully. "I..remember that as a..a happy day."

"Not too happy for Madison Sinclair, though," he said gleefully, relieved that she didn't seem upset. "And it seems like she's been stewing all these years, wondering exactly what it was she saw that day."

Veronica grinned suddenly. "Any day I can make Madison Sinclair crazy is a good day for me," she said, laughing.

"I don't know," Logan said, gathering up the remains of their lunches to toss away in the trash. "Sometimes spiteful gossips like Madison have their uses."

xxxxxxxx

"So are you going to tell everyone that you're wearing $89 dress shoes with your $4000 tuxedo?" Veronica asked as Logan stowed their purchases in the trunk.

He smirked at her. "As long as my feet don't know the difference, I don't think anyone else will care. And those shoes were damned comfortable. Better than my old ones."

Veronica just shook her head in amazement. Seventeen-year-old Logan would be appalled by his lack of condescension.

"So...um...I guess we're done?" Veronica was tentative. "I can direct you to my place from here."

Logan's face dropped. "You need to get back right now?" he asked.

Veronica had been a little nervous that Logan's errands might be personal in nature, that he might not want her around for them. But it seemed that was not the case, and her mood brightened considerably.

"No," she said immediately, sliding into the passenger seat. "What next?"

Logan closed the driver's side door and said hesitantly, "I...think we need to go to the supermarket."

"You...think? How much thinking can there be about a trip to the market?"

Logan looked a little sheepish.

"When was the last time you were at a supermarket, Logan?" Veronica asked doubtfully.

She remembered that during the short time that they'd lived together, he'd always uploaded their food order into the computer, and had almost anything they needed delivered. Under the circumstances, she hadn't minded. Her feet had often been swollen and sometimes her back ached, so she was just as glad to escape the marketing. There'd been quick trips to the convenience store, of course, for this and that, but never to one of those giant emporiums where you could get lost for days just trying to find the canned tuna.

"Um, I usually just get things delivered. I didn't mind the Sac 'n Pac, because it had just a few aisles, but it went out of business a couple of years ago. But those huge places..." He sighed.

Veronica looked over at the multi-millionaire who was even now plotting to thwart the plans of a Mexican drug cartel, and contemplated the mass of contradictions that was Logan Echolls.

"Logan," she asked gently, "are you telling me that you're..._afraid_ to shop in a supermarket?"

"Uh, not afraid exactly. It just doesn't feel...natural." He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, trying to gauge her reaction, but she was smiling gently.

He laughed suddenly, seeing the absurdity of it. "You don't have to tell me how crazy this is. When I was a kid, I was a regular on the movie premiere circuit by the time I was eight. I had young actresses - some of them a lot older than me - throwing themselves at me by the time I was twelve. And I had my own car before I was old enough to even apply for a learner's permit."

He paused, shook his head. "But my mom never took me to the supermarket."

Logan sighed. "So it feels like it's something I'm not...I don't know...supposed to do." He looked at Veronica pleadingly, asking silently for her understanding at this further proof of his eccentricity.

As Veronica listened, she tried desperately not to think about the boy who had grown up privileged in so many ways, and yet was so deprived in others. She knew if she focused on the Logan whose childhood never included trips to the ice cream aisle to debate the merits of Rocky Road versus Chunky Monkey, she'd lose it. Why had she never realized how limited his experiences were in the world of everyday living?

She grinned instead, picking up his hand in both of her hers, bringing it dramatically to her breast.

"As God is my witness," she said in her very best Scarlett O'Hara, "you will never again starve because you cannot buy food at the supermarket..."

He laughed, interrupting her. "I've never starved."

She pulled at his hand. "Shush," she said, and segued into Phillip Marlowe. "Stick with me, kid. I'll show you the ropes."

She placed Logan's hand on the steering wheel and buckled herself in. "Hit it, Echolls," she said. "You're in for the adventure of a lifetime."

xxxxxxxx

She'd finally wormed out of him that he actually had a list from Alicia Fennel, by way of Wallace, of items they needed to buy. When Veronica demanded to see the list, Logan pulled it out of his inside pocket with relief. He'd been worrying about it ever since he'd made it.

Veronica perused the list, and for the most part it was pretty straightforward. But there were a couple of items that baffled her.

She noticed that besides the food, there was something called a "jelly roll pan" on the list, and she asked Logan about it.

"So what's a jelly roll pan?" she asked idly, then laughed out loud at Logan's look of bewilderment. "Yeah, you're right," she said. "Why the hell am I asking you?"

Veronica sighed. "We'll figure it out," she said, pulling out her phone and typing "jelly roll pan" into the Google search bar. "Eureka!" Veronica exclaimed, feeling like an idiot, when images filled the screen. She gave Logan a quick look at the screen as he was driving.

"Aren't those cookie pans? Um, that doesn't sound quite right." He frowned.

"Yup. Cookie _sheets_. You must have some tucked away somewhere at the beach house," she added with a smile. "Unless you've...thrown them away?" Veronica's voice was hesitant.

Logan glanced at her briefly as he negotiated a turn. "I've haven't thrown anything away, Veronica," he said softly. "I may have added a few things, but everything you used is still there, right where you left it."

Veronica looked out her window, assailed by a wave of emotion she couldn't seem to name. Was it...nostalgia? Longing? Homesickness? She shook her head at herself. It wasn't like her to be fanciful.

"I'm sure we can get those at the supermarket." She looked back at the list. "Plates? You have plates in the suite, right?"

Logan nodded. "In one of the cupboards."

"What about the rest of the food for the party?" Veronica asked suddenly, wondering if they'd forgotten something important.

Logan smiled. "Supermarkets may be a mystery, but caterers aren't," he said. "The hotel is taking care of it. I asked for the food to be delivered, but I said we'd serve ourselves. I didn't want anyone in the suite that I didn't know personally."

Veronica nodded. "Good plan." Logan may have been an affluent man, but he was also a clever one.

When they reached Veronica's favorite market, it didn't take them long to work through the list. Logan was overwhelmed by the variety offered in the spice aisle, where they picked up rosemary, basil, and oregano. Then it was on to the cheese section for fresh grated Parmesan and Romano, and finally they reached the canned goods, where they grabbed a couple of cans of diced tomatoes, and a jar of chopped garlic.

They'd even found the jelly roll pans in a section that also contained cupcake tins and pie plates. By the time they'd picked up a small bottle of olive oil, there was only one item left on the list and Veronica was still puzzling it out.

"Is this a commentary on the ease of preparation?" Veronica asked, frowning.

"Why? What does it say?"

"It says...it's quick." She looked at him inquiringly.

"Mm hmm." He looked at the list in her hand. "Pretty sure that's what Wallace said."

"But...that doesn't make sense. What is it that she's making?"

"Squares. Um, I think Wallace said Italian squares."

Veronica thought about the squares, with the savory spices, and the oil, tomatoes and cheeses, and...

Her burst of laughter was so sudden and so merry that Logan was sure the pressure was finally getting to her.

"Come on," she said, when she could speak again, dragging him back across the store. They were halfway up the baking aisle when she stopped suddenly and pulled a yellow and blue box down off the shelf to show him.

"Do you think he might have said Bisquick, Logan?" Veronica asked, her eyes twinkling.

Logan smiled. He'd forgotten all about Bisquick. There used to be a box of it in his own kitchen, and Veronica had used it to make pancakes.

"Isn't that pancake mix?" Logan asked.

"Oh, Logan," she said, grinning, dropping the box into their cart. "I think there are a lot of things I need to teach you about life among the commoners. And one of them is clearly the wonder that is Bisquick."

"Okay," he said, smiling in return and grabbing both her hands.

"Okay...what?" she asked.

"Teach me everything that I don't know. That ought to take, I don't know, a lifetime." He knew she'd been kidding and that he should just shut the hell up, but the words flew out before he could stop them.

When Veronica dared to look up at him, he was smiling at her with such affection that suddenly, she couldn't breathe.

_Why the hell does he have to look at me like that? He's going home in a couple of days, and I'm going to be left here trying to forget that look._

Veronica cleared her throat and tried for distraction. "What do you say we splurge and buy some ice cream?" she said, pulling her hands away from Logan's.

"A shocking request," he laughed.

As they headed toward the freezers, Veronica remembered her earlier speculations about Logan's childhood, and she turned to look at him. If she could've seen the look in her own eyes, she wouldn't have wondered why Logan's face softened so suddenly.

"What do you think?" she said when they reached the ice cream freezers. "Rocky Road or Chunky Monkey?"

Logan smirked. "Why have to choose?" he said, tossing a tub of each into the cart.

He looked around sadly. Now that he'd been introduced to the splendid offerings of the supermarket, he'd never be content with the convenience store again. But he'd have to wait until he got home to Neptune to buy everything he wanted. Logan sighed. He was pretty sure his next trip to the supermarket wasn't going to be half as much fun without Veronica.

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"Of course you have to come up," Logan said when they were finally back in the garage at the St. Regis. "How else are you going to to get your ice cream?"

"Is this how you entice women into your home?" Veronica asked as she stepped out of the car. "Ply them with promises of Rocky Road and Chunky Monkey?"

Logan grabbed the grocery bags from the back seat and they moved toward the bank of elevators.

"Rocky Road?" he responded. "Not so much. But when I offer them a taste of my Chunky Monkey..." He stopped and waggled his brows at her as they entered the elevator.

Veronica rolled her eyes and made a gagging sound, while Logan smirked. "Bad, Echolls, very, very bad," she chided him severely. But then she spoiled it by grinning, and by the time the elevator reached the penthouse floor, they were both laughing.

Veronica couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed so much or had such a carefree day. And this, with threats of personal danger hanging over her head. She'd finally stopped fighting it, her delight in just being around Logan Echolls again. Sometime that day, without her even being conscious of it, she'd simply decided to enjoy the moment and worry about everything else when he'd gone.

They put Alicia's ingredients away and stacked up the pans on the counter.

"What about...?" Veronica raised her brows and left the question unfinished.

"Ah," Logan said. "Thanks for the reminder." He unzipped an inside pocket in his jacket and took out a small plastic bag.

"Oh, my god, you had that on you all day?" Veronica didn't know whether to be amused or appalled.

"Yep. I didn't want to leave it in the car."

Logan looked around for a place to stash it until Alicia could make use of it, finally opting for the bedside table. Except to take Veronica home later, he had no plans to leave the suite.

"Ice cream," Veronica reminded him. "I was promised a, uh, taste of Chunky Monkey," she said with a smirk.

He pulled out bowls and spoons and soon they were sitting comfortably on the couch.

"Wanna watch a movie?" Logan asked. "This place has a pretty good selection."

Veronica called her dad to let him know she'd be out a while longer.

"Don't worry about me," Keith said, crossing his fingers. "I've got a book and the TV for company."

"Are you sure?" she asked, little tendrils of guilt beginning to swirl through her head.

"I'm sure," Keith said hastily, happy that she was finally allowing herself to enjoy Logan's company.

They watched two movies, ordering dinner from room service in between. Veronica had removed her shoes and was feeling pleasantly drowsy. They'd drifted closer and closer to each other during the second movie, a horror film. By the halfway point, Veronica was peeking through her fingers and Logan had thrown an arm around her, pulling her against him.

"We can stop it if you want," he said, smiling.

"No, no, I'm enjoying it," Veronica insisted.

Logan pulled her even closer until she was practically sitting in his lap. He chuckled inwardly at how nervous he was to have his arm around her like this, considering that the woman wrapped up in his embrace was his wife.

Logan sighed.

"What's the matter?" Veronica asked, picking up the remote and muting the volume.

"Nothing," he said quietly. "I just can't remember when I've had such a nice day."

"Me, too," she agreed, seeming to notice for the first time how very close they were sitting. Seeming to feel for the first time the weight of his arm around her slim shoulder. Veronica looked into his eyes, the ones that were full of affection and happiness, and she suddenly couldn't breathe. She didn't want to move, except to get closer to Logan, and she was swamped by those same old sensations.

Logan must have seen something in her eyes, because his lips curved into a smile and his free hand reached up to caress her cheek and move a stray hair behind her ear.

"Veronica," he breathed, his eyelids lowering as he focused on her lips, and how very close they were.

Veronica took a little breath, and moved her hand into his hair. He pulled her even closer, and the air between them vibrated with expectation.

The knock on the door was loud and it startled them both. Veronica blinked and Logan swore under his breath.

"What the fuck?" he complained, hoping whoever it was would just go away.

But the knock came again, louder and more insistent.

"Who the hell is that?" he said, getting up finally to see who had ruined his moment, the one he'd been hoping for all day.

Logan had almost made it to the door when the knock came a third time.

"Hold your fucking horses," Logan muttered, opening the door.

"Dude! I was beginning to wonder if you were even here." His voice boomed through the open doorway.

"I'm here, Dick," Logan sighed. "The real question is, what the fuck are _you_ doing here?"

"Decided to come tonight," he said, moving past Logan into the room. "Couldn't wait. Changed the ticket to the 9 p.m. flight and here I am! I tried to get them to give me the room you booked for tomorrow night, but someone was in it and they didn't have another one. But I knew you wouldn't mind putting me up for one night on the..."

It was at this point in his monologue that Dick Casablancas's eyes made contact with the piece of furniture on which he hoped to spend the night and noticed that it was occupied.

"Ronnie! Oh, shit!" Dick turned to Logan with an apology in his eyes. "Sorry, bro. I can go to another hotel. It's not a problem."

Veronica got up from the couch, pulling on her shoes, and moved to intercept him. "Don't be silly, Dick," she said. "you're here now, and anyway, I was just leaving."

"Veronica," Logan said, and she could hear the disappointment in his voice. "You don't have to go. Please stay."

"Hell, no, Ronnie! Sorry for barging in. Let me just call..."

Veronica smiled at Dick and held out her hand. "Thanks for doing this, Dick," she said when he grabbed it. "I know you didn't have to come all the way from Neptune just to help me out. We were never exactly the best of friends."

Veronica had barely got that out when she found herself enveloped awkwardly in Dick's hug.

"Oof," she said, as he patted her back and shoulder before letting her go.

"Hell, Ronnie. We've had our moments. Maybe more than a few. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't help you out of a jam. And besides, if anything happened to you, they might as well go for Logan, too, because he'd just be gone, anyway."

Dick had not learned tact over the years, she decided. He beamed at both of them as they tried to avoid each other's embarrassed glance.

Veronica picked up her handbag and headed for the door. When Logan started to follow, she looked at him inquisitively.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

Logan looked baffled. "What do you mean? I'm going to drive you home."

"No!" Her negative reaction was so immediate and so emphatic that Logan was taken aback.

"What?" he said in disbelief. "You think I'm letting you...I don't know...take the bus?" She could hear the undertone of anger just below the surface.

"I'll be fine in a taxi," she insisted. Veronica knew she couldn't let him drive her home. After what had almost happened on the couch not five minutes before, she knew she was far too vulnerable. Far too susceptible. She just couldn't be alone with him right now. They stared at one another in silence, but Veronica could have sworn he knew exactly what she was thinking.

He finally pulled out his phone, scrolled down his contact list and pressed the screen.

"Hi, Keith," he said when the the call was picked up. "Veronica's ready to go home, but she doesn't want me to take the car out. So I'm...willing to put her into a taxi, as long as you're downstairs to meet the taxi at your end."

His voice was clipped and uninflected as he spoke to Keith. Veronica saw him nod once before he said, "Thanks, Keith."

She felt like a six-year-old being passed between two estranged parents, and her hackles started to rise. She and Logan left the suite and took the elevator down to the lobby. They stood in silence the entire trip, and Veronica couldn't help but compare it to the ride up just a few hours earlier, when there'd been jokes and laughter. And flirtation.

They reached the ground floor, and still Logan said nothing to her as they crossed the lobby and made their way out the door to the taxi stand in front of the hotel. They didn't have to wait long. A cab pulled up almost immediately, and Logan opened the back door, bundling her in and giving the driver her address.

Veronica knew she had every right to be annoyed. Surely she could take a short taxi ride from the St. Regis to her apartment without an escort, without...special handling. She glanced up at Logan's face as he shut the door, and saw his determination to keep her safe.

And as she had done the last time he put her into a taxi - dear god, was it only a week ago? - she asked the driver to wait, while she stepped back onto the sidewalk to face Logan.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I know you're only trying to take care of me." Veronica sighed. "This was the best day I've had in a long time, and I...don't want it to end like this."

Before she could stop herself, before she could even think about what the hell she was doing, Veronica reached up and caressed Logan's cheek. She moved her hand to the back of his neck and pulled his head down. Then she lifted her head and her lips moved across his in a soft kiss. It was not a deep or passionate kiss, but neither was it a peck. Her lips caressed his for three, four, five seconds while Logan's eyes fluttered shut and his hand moved lightly through her hair. And then she pulled back and smiled at him.

"Goodnight, Logan," she said softly. She'd stepped back into the taxi and was gone before he could even react.

When Logan returned to the suite, Dick fell all over himself apologizing once again.

"Shit, Logan," he said. "If I'd had any idea Ronnie was here..."

"Never mind, Dick," Logan said, his anger evaporated. "It doesn't matter."

"Doesn't matter? Dude! If I hadn't come in, you and Ronnie, maybe you would have... Christ, Logan, she's still your wife and I know how you feel about her."

Logan nodded, sighed. "You're right, Dick," he agreed. "Maybe something would have happened. I think...I think we both wanted it to."

Logan paused, trying to figure out how to explain it to Dick.

"The thing is, I don't want Veronica to just want to sleep with me. I don't want her to...jump into my bed and be sorry about it five minutes, or an hour, or a week later. I want her to want to _be_ with me." He smiled slightly at the bafflement on Dick's face. "I want her to want to _stay_ with me."

Dick stared at Logan as though he were speaking a foreign language, and Logan chuckled and shook his head.

"Blankets and stuff are in that cabinet, Dude. I'll see you in the morning."


End file.
